Layers of Reality
by Marie1964
Summary: When an explosion lands Newkirk in a hospital, he learns that the war is over when he regains consciousness. How will he adjust to this new "reality?"
1. Chapter 1

AN: We (Sierra Sutherwinds and I) present another collaboration for your enjoyment. The story idea is by me, with the main writing done by Sierra.

Chapter One: Explosions

Hogan entered a room without windows and just one door. His men were waiting for him. "I'm all right," he said to their expectant looks. Hogan heard the key in the lock and inwardly sighed. They wanted to make sure that he and his men would stay in one place. He took a seat between Carter and LeBeau in the only couch while Kinch leaned against the wall.

Hogan looked around. "How about you, guys?"

"Bruises," LeBeau said.

"Bruises and scratches," Carter said, showing him the band aid around his right index finger.

"Kinch?"

The sergeant smiled and nodded. "Black eye and a nice headache. And you?"

"Most of the above, except for the band aid," Hogan grinned. Then, he frowned, as a familiar British accent was noticeably missing from his men's chorus. "Where's Newkirk?"

"They haven't brought him yet," Kinch said.

"He went before me." Hogan began to pace around. "What's going on here?" He hated not knowing all the answers. The world had suddenly gone upside down and waiting was all they could do to pass the time.

"It's been a very strange day," LeBeau said. "Nothing has gone as we planned it."

"That last-minute job took us out of our routine," Kinch nodded in agreement.

"We should be covered by an insurance against freak accidents, don't you think?" Carter frowned. "This kind of medical attention must cost a fortune."

"The explosion wasn't our fault, so the bills are on them, Carter." Hogan walked all the way to one side of the room and then, turned towards the opposite. "Nobody could have expected that we would be injured at that railroad in the tunnel. Naturally, I don't think Klink knows any more about this than we do when he sent us on that work detail."

"The Krauts will blame it on the underground," Kinch said.

"But they would tell us if-" Carter left his sentence unfinished when LeBeau jumped and covered his mouth.

"Walls have ears, remember?" Hogan whispered. He gathered his men as close as possible. "Something's going on. That explosion wasn't from our side."

"What do you say?" Kinch asked.

"Someone else's underground?" Carter stared at the others. "How many sides does this war have?"

LeBeau shook his head. "One too many." He turned to Hogan. "But, if the sabotage didn't come from the Allies, who else is there left?"

"Someone that hates railroad tunnels," Kinch shrugged.

"Well we're lucky that the explosives were so few. Just a little more than that and we'd be sitting in front of the pearly gates of Heaven." Carter stood up too. "Why is Newkirk taking so long?"

For once, Hogan would not dismiss Carter's concern. They had been in the middle of an explosion and escaped with bruises and scratches. Medical help had been fast and proper for all of them. There should not be any complication. "They locked us up in here, we have to wait."

As if Hogan had called them with his thoughts, Klink and a doctor came into the room. The Kommandant was quite relieved to see his prisoners up and walking.

"Gentlemen, I'm glad to tell you that you've been cleared off. Sergeant Schultz will come in a minute to take you back to the Stalag."

"We're still one man shy, sir. I won't leave without all my men accounted for." Hogan looked at the doctor with an uneasy feeling in his gut.

"Colonel Hogan? I'm Doctor König. I personally attended to Corporal Newkirk." The man spoke with an unreadable face. "He required emergency surgery to fix a compound fracture in his ankle."

"Compound fracture? He just had a sprained ankle!" Carter stepped forward, completely surprised at hearing the news.

"And what's that about emergency surgery? I'm his superior officer, shouldn't you ask for my permission?" Hogan asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"They asked, and I am the superior officer here." Klink did not show any anger; he just gave them the facts.

"It was a bad fracture, we had to act immediately or he would have lost his leg."

Carter turned to LeBeau and Kinch and he could see that they were just as puzzled and indignant as he was. Newkirk had come with them in the same truck. They were all joking and walking without any problem. When the doctors separated them into different examination rooms, he should have known that something was not right. "We should have stayed together," he grimaced.

Hogan couldn't agree more. He had a bad feeling about this but there wasn't much he could do without causing an incident, which was something that their operation would not tolerate at all. Keeping a low profile was the only way to protect what they had done so far. Hogan desisted of any more protests from his men.

"Can I see my man before we leave?"

"I'm sorry, but he's still in Recovery. We'll call Kommandant Klink as soon as he wakes up from the anesthesia."

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Ça sent le roussi," he said intently aloud. [1]

While Carter didn't understand what his friend had just said, he agreed regardless. "You got the words out of my mouth."

"Colonel Klink, I've never begged you for favors," Hogan said.

"I'm sorry, Hogan, but my hands are tied. I'll keep communications open to keep you informed. I'm sure Corporal Newkirk will be fine and back in the Stalag by tomorrow morning." He turned to the doctor for approval but he got nothing.

Hogan signed to his men for them to calm down. They would not insubordinate against him, no matter how frustrated they were. Schultz came five minutes later and took them all in a quiet line. The waiting would continue in the barracks.

HHH

"Kinch," Hogan said while he opened the trap under the bunk. "Go downstairs. Ask around if anyone knows about that explosion in the railroad. I want names."

"How about Newkirk?"

"You may ask to the hospital but be careful. We don't want anyone telling Klink that someone else is getting interested in the Englander." With that, Kinch headed below into the tunnels.

Hogan turned around. Carter and LeBeau were standing behind him as though waiting for him to solve all their problems. Hogan had never felt so helpless before.

"You look tired. Go to sleep. We had a rough morning." He did not wait for replies. He rushed into his office to pretend that he was busy while waiting for some news to arrive from the hospital.

HHH

The phone rang in Klink's office. Earlier Hogan had connected the coffee pot/transmitter to listen in on anything that might be coming from the Kommandantur. Only this time, he did not call his men in to listen with him.

The conversation was short and direct. Klink did not say much, but instead he listened and answered with a concise _Yes_ during every two seconds interval. But it was the last sentence that was rather disturbing.

"_I see... You've done as much as you can and I thank you for that... Yes... Yes... I'll talk to them right away... Yes... I'm very sorry too."_

Hogan sat back and put his thoughts in order. Whatever Klink had heard on the other end of the telephone couldn't be good news. For a moment, he allowed himself to lose control. _This can't be happening... He's not dead... he can't be..._ A knock on the door took him back.

"Klink is coming, sir," Carter said. He looked troubled too.

Hogan's men were too intuitive. Whatever was happening or had happened to Newkirk, they already knew it would not be good. They saw the Kommandant enter without much protocol and he walked directly into Hogan's office. He quietly closed the door behind him.

Neither man wanted to sit. They stared at each other eager to read their minds if they only could. Finally, Klink spoke up.

"Hogan, I'm afraid that the news about your man in the hospital is not good at all."

The colonel tried to look surprised. "What went wrong?"

"Apparently, Newkirk had a bad reaction to the anesthesia and they can't wake him up."

Hogan took a deep breath. Through his head passed ideas, speculations and angry words against those Krauts. Surely, their ineptitude had a lot to do with what happened to Newkirk. He did not talk for a minute to allow himself time to calm down.

"Is he in a coma?" He kept his voice down, while forcing himself to keep it from breaking in front of Klink.

"That's the word they used." Klink looked terribly awkward. He was not used to being the bearer of bad news, much less to be the one consoling people in times of trouble.

"Would they let me see him now?"

"I've made the arrangements. Schultz will drive you to the hospital tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Hogan's neutral tone began to fade. He was too upset to care much about the respect of ranks. "He could be dead by then!"

"I've done as much as I could. That's the situation and yelling at each other is not going to change it." He turned to the door but stopped before opening it. "I trust you'll make sure that your men observe discipline at all times."

Hogan tightened his jaw and counted to ten. "We'll behave accordingly to the circumstances, sir."

With that, Klink left the barracks and walked back to his office.

HHH

Fortunately, getting into the hospital did not represent a challenge. They had been breaking into buildings for a long time. Hogan and Carter had disguised themselves as orderlies in night shift. They walked without a problem to the main desk. Carter watched around while Hogan checked the files for Newkirk's room number. Curiously, he had been assigned to a single room.

"Maybe Colonel Klink asked for it. He likes us," Carter said.

Hogan could refute that reasoning. They were prisoners of war. There should be no privileges or special treatment. If a prisoner's injuries warranted placement in a hospital, it was very likely that he would end up in a general salon with other prisoners.

"Let's just see if he's all right and get out of here." Hogan led the way to the elevators.

The room was the last one on the right. As they had expected, there was a guard sitting by the door. Hogan was still elaborating a plan to jump that hurdle when Carter stepped forward.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm an orderly here. See? Orderly." He showed his fake ID tag to the guard and smiled, while speaking in his German accent. "Me and my friend here are supposed to put some order in that room. I know it's a little late but with all the activity around, this is the only time and-"

Hogan could not decide whether to disarm the guard before he gave the alarm or to run in a hurry. At the moment, the second option looked really tempting. To his amazement, the guard not only opened the door for them, he also smiled.

"Unbelievable," the colonel whispered to his friend.

The room was quiet, as expected. Except for the IV that was next to the bed, there wasn't a lot of medical equipment around. Carter got closer to make sure they were in the right place. To his relief, he could see that it was indeed Newkirk. His eyes were closed, and his features were relaxed. To the naked eye, it was hard to tell how bad his condition was.

Carter shrugged. "He looks asleep."

"He's asleep," Hogan said. He looked more carefully. Newkirk's right foot was in a case, but besides that he looked rather well. "It's just that he's not ready to wake up."

"Can't we take him with us? I don't like this place at all," Carter said, looking around nervously.

"Me neither. But maybe it's better for him. He's safe here."

"Is he? He came with a sprained ankle. You saw it, I saw it. Something's very wrong." Carter shook his head. "What are we going to do if he doesn't come to?"

"Let's not anticipate anything. We'll give these doctors a chance. If he's not better in a couple of days, I'll start making waves."

"Like what, Colonel?"

"This might be Newkirk's ticket out of here." Hogan shrugged. "I'll break the Geneva Convention treaty in their heads until they send him home."

Carter almost smiled. Almost. He was too upset about the entire situation. He knew that if LeBeau and Kinch were with them, they would feel like him too. Either way he looked at it, they would still lose Newkirk. At least, sending him home would be better than leaving him in that horrible German hospital.

"Visiting hours are over. Let's go," Hogan said, pulling at Carter's sleeve. "C'mon, I have a pass granted for tomorrow, and you and LeBeau could come at night. We won't leave him alone."

"No way, we'll stick with Newkirk all the way." Carter squeezed Newkirk's hand reassuringly. _Please get better soon, Peter! Life at the Stalag wouldn't be the same without you!_

Hogan took a last look at his corporal and stroked his hair. "We're here, Newkirk. We're with you."

[1] "I smell a rat."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Amnesiac Dreams

The nurse drew back the curtains, letting the sun illuminate the room. The patient in the bed grunted and rubbed his eyes. The nurse came closer and laid one hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes. She smiled widely.

"You're awake?" She did not expect an answer. She flattened the sheets and checked his temperature with one hand on his forehead. Since it was normal, she drew her hand back to her side. "Can you hear me? You don't need to talk, just one nod will be enough."

He frowned. He took a deep breath and let the words come out with the exhalation. "Where am I?"

"Berlin. This is a private clinic. Nothing is too much for one of our heroes." She took a pitcher from the table and poured a glass of water. She lifted his head with one arm behind his neck and held the glass close to his lips. "Drink slowly. Just one sip. Do you remember your name?"

He thought about it for a moment. "N-Newkirk... Peter Newkirk, c-corp-"

"Royal Air Force corporal." She kept smiling. "We know."

"W-We? Who? How long have I-?" The effort made him dizzy. He closed his eyes, fighting to stay awake.

"It's all right. You're among friends here. No more POW camps. They're history now." She brushed the hair off his forehead with two fingers. "The war is over, corporal. We won."

A cloud covered Newkirk's eyes. His body was heavy and motionless. Since he was unable to ask any more questions, he abandoned himself back to sleep.

HHH

Newkirk could not tell how long he had been out this time. All of his muscles resented the lack of exercise. He kept his eyes closed, trying to put his thoughts in order. His mind was starting to remember the nurse and her last words before he passed out. Did she say that the war was over? Newkirk shook his head. He did not know they were so close already. He began to wonder how much time had _really_ passed. A couple of months? Years? Maybe he had heard her wrong... Although he found that the perspective of stopping the fight and going home was rather exhilarating, he was terrified.

What would he do with his new freedom? All those years as a prisoner of war, secretly fighting the enemy... That was all he knew, all he could do. Waking up to a new life without weapons, tunnels, and explosives made him dizzy. He was happy and yet, completely overwhelmed.

He opened his eyes to find two men in white gowns and medical equipment. One of them came closer with a small flashlight.

"He's awake," he said directing the light into Newkirk's pupils.

Newkirk jerked away and pushed him with one hand. "Don't!"

The nurse came from the other side of the bed and gently clasped Newkirk's arm. "It's okay, you're among friends." She smiled at him. "Do you remember me, Corporal Newkirk?"

He turned to her. Despite himself, he felt glad to see her. The other man was behind her with a stethoscope. Neither of them stopped smiling. To him, that was a little disturbing.

"Please, don't be scared," the man said. "I just want to check on your vital signs."

"It'll take only a couple of minutes." The nurse kept her hand on Newkirk's arm. "I have to take a blood sample, all right?"

Newkirk calmed down a little. He would not let them see that he was scared. "Since we're taking this relationship to a 'ighest level, may I know your names?"

"Certainly," the man said. "I'm Doctor Frakes, and that's Doctor Hamilton. We've been on your case since the POW camps were liberated."

"I'm nurse Winget, Lydia Winget." She prepared some tubes. "We're so excited to be talking with you after all this time, Corporal Newkirk."

"Well, we talked to you, but without any answer." Doctor Hamilton stayed behind his colleague. "It was a leap of faith indeed."

"You're all British?" Newkirk kept quiet while they worked on him. "Anyone from London?"

"Hamilton," Doctor Frakes said. "I'm from Glasgow."

"A Highlander," Newkirk smiled. "And you? A British lassie?"

"Cleveland, Ohio," she said. "Please, call me Lydia."

"I'm Peter."

"Do you want to sit up?" Doctor Frakes asked.

He and Lydia helped him up. Newkirk was surprised at how weak he was. He dropped his head back as soon as he felt the pillow behind him. Doctor Hamilton gave him a glass of water.

"Drink, you must be dehydrated."

Newkirk looked at these three people, taking care of all his needs. Suddenly, he felt better, as though he was finally where he belonged.

"When was the last time you were at London?" he asked Hamilton.

"I was there yesterday. We travel back and forth constantly now." The doctor took Newkirk's blood pressure readings. "If you keep progressing like this, you might be heading home within a week."

"A week? To London?" Newkirk whispered. "That would be so..." He found it difficult to put his thoughts into words. "I'm so sleepy."

"It's all right, Peter. You need to rest. We'll come back later, all right?"

Newkirk disconnected from the world again.

HHH

_The hours passed and Newkirk regained consciousness again. It was past midnight but he was too restless to sleep. He wondered how much longer he should stay in bed. He wanted to walk and see how the world felt now that the war was over. Slowly, he put his feet on the floor. It was cold but nice. Getting up was easy compared to staying up. _

_Newkirk staggered while looking for a wall to steady his pace. He walked to the window. He was not sure of what he was hoping to see out there when he drew back the curtains. _

_Instead of streetlights and some grass, he saw the Stalag. It was day, there was broad light, and the prisoners were outside, playing volleyball. He saw Hogan, Carter, LeBeau and Kinch. They were laughing and waving at him. Carter ran to the window._

"_Hey, Newkirk! When are you coming back? We miss you, buddy."_

"_Come back where? The war is over," Newkirk said, shaking his head back and forth._

"_Oh, come on. We're still giving it to them, boy." He came closer to talk in whispers. "You're dreaming."_

"_What? You are in me dreams... They are real, the war is over..." Newkirk stared at him._

"_It's okay, Peter. You're fine now that you've woken up," his friend replied, putting a hand on his shoulder._

"_I'm dreaming, Carter. You're not 'ere," Newkirk said, brushing the hand away._

"_But I'm here. All of us are here, waiting for you to wake up. We've all been very worried about you, but we have faith that you'll make it through" Carter said while smiling. _

_Newkirk felt dizzy all of a sudden. His head hurt with the slightest thought that was crossing his mind. "I woke up... I'm fine now... You're just a dream..." His legs could not support him for much longer, and he could feel himself falling down. He turned from the window but the bed was too far away. One step forward and he hit the floor._

HHH

"Good morning."

Newkirk looked at the nurse working on the curtains again. She was cheerful when she poured water for him to drink. "Did you sleep well?"

He remembered last night's dream and how he passed out right before getting back to bed. Apparently, that part had also been a dream. "Fine, I guess." He sat up. "Nurse- Lydia, 'ow did I get 'ere?"

"Your memory will come back little by little." She patted him on the shoulder.

"But there are so many things I still don't know," he looked at her. "Please, tell me, 'ave you talked to me sister? Does she know about me? And my friends... the other prisoners... where are they?"

Before she could answer at least one of the questions, Doctor Hamilton came in. He was pushing a wheelchair. "It's so good to see you coming back." He smiled. "Doctor Frakes thinks that it's about time for you to get a glimpse of the world outside."

"Finally," Newkirk agreed. "Don't take it personally but I really 'ate hospitals." He rushed to get up and almost fell over. Hamilton was there to help him to sit down on the chair. "First stop?"

"Blue skies and fresh air, of course."

The hallway felt like an endless tunnel of doors. The last one opened to perfect clarity. Newkirk had to shade his eyes with one hand. "Blimey!" he said.

Hamilton bent over the chair to speak into his ear. "Tell me, Peter, what do you see?"

"Blue skies... the bluest skies you've ever seen. There are no clouds. And the grass," he said, lowering down his eyes. "The grass is so green."

"Do you see people?"

"Sure. There are some over there, walking in their nightgowns... But we're in a hospital, after all."

"Certainly." Hamilton pushed the wheelchair to a corner. He sat next to Newkirk. "Do you like this place?"

Newkirk looked at one gigantic tree behind him. "The shade feels good..."

"How about the sun? Nothing like home, eh?"

"Oh, no. Back home, the only sun you've got is on Sunday."

Hamilton laughed. "_Sunday! _I get it... Sun-day. You're very funny, you should be a comedian."

Newkirk shrugged. "Maybe I was... many years ago."

"What did you do before the war, Peter?"

"I worked at a... I was..." Newkirk rubbed his forehead. A developing headache began to form in the center of his brain. "So weird," he smiled. "I can't remember."

Hamilton nodded. "It's all right, Peter. A little bit of amnesia is expected in these cases. Hey," he said, "you mentioned a sister. Do you remember her name?"

Newkirk smiled. He grew excited at the thought of her. "Sure I do... She's... eh... 'Er name is..." The headache pierced his eyes and made him scream. "Bloody 'ell!"

Hamilton touched his arm. "It's all right. We'll fix that before you go home. Let's take you back to your room. It's been enough for your first day."

The way back felt shorter. Newkirk got back into his bed and drank some more water. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.

Hamilton came out and signed for Lydia to enter. "We must not leave him alone too long, all right?"

"How is he doing?"

"Better. We'll call reinforcements now, just to help him strengthen his memory. And soon…"

"That is good news. He'll be thrilled." She smiled and entered Newkirk's room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Meeting a Familiar Mate

"_Mavis!" Newkirk sat back on the bench and scratched his head. "'Ow could I possibly forget that name. Me own sister's!"_

_It was a beautiful afternoon in Stalag Thirteen. Many of the prisoners were outside, and they were playing volleyball and baseball. Newkirk felt completely relaxed and safe among his friends._

"_Those things happen. You're under too much pressure these days, having been injured and all-" Carter said sympathetically._

"_You know what I think?" said Kinch tossing a baseball to someone a few feet away from them. "I don't think you were injured."_

"_Quoi? He's leg is splinted, don't you see?" _

"_I don't see it," Kinch shrugged._

"_Well, I do." LeBeau shook his head. "Does it still hurt?"_

"_Well, it doesn't 'urt much." Newkirk shrugged. "It's the 'eadaches that really bugger me. And me memory... I've lost a lot of it lately."_

"_Maybe you should talk to the colonel. He's the only one who always knows what's going on and what to do about it." Carter smiled. "I wish I could be like him."_

"_Yeah, me too." Newkirk sighed and smirked._

"_What is it?" LeBeau clapped his arm._

"_I think I'm waking up again."_

"_And that's bad?" Kinch asked._

"_It scares me being awake," Newkirk replied, trying to keep himself from breaking out into a cold sweat._

"_That's silly." Carter chuckled._

"_Ne t'inquiete pas, we're all with you always. You know that." LeBeau smiled._

"_Yeah, we're all right with you..." Carter voice vanished and everything faded to black._

"No... don't go away, please... stay... don't leave me alone..." Newkirk rolled his head on the pillow, mumbling and moaning.

Doctor Hamilton entered to see Lydia staring at their patient with concern. "You can't help much if you get too attached. The patient-doctor relationship shouldn't be compromised." He walked to the bed and took Newkirk's wrist to check his pulse. "Has he talked in his dreams?"

"Nothing coherent or significant. He misses his friends and," she said with a sigh, "he's really scared." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "But don't worry. The relationship won't be affected in any sort of negative manner."

"Who wouldn't? Be scared, that is. All this must be so strange to him. You don't wake up to face your future and feel perky all of a sudden." He smiled at her. "Don't worry too much, Lydia. He's doing exactly as we expected."

"I know." She poured water into a glass. "It's just that he's a nice person. There should be another way."

"There are other ways, but you wouldn't like him to go through them. Stubborn as he is, he might die in the process." He waited until she took her place at the other side of the bed. "Ready."

Lydia nodded and smiled widely as Hamilton shook Newkirk's shoulder. The Englishman opened his eyes, still confused. He looked at them with curiosity.

"Good morning," Lydia sang cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"

"Some," he said, sitting up with Hamilton's help. Immediately, Lydia offered him the glass of water. "I ain't thirsty." He pushed the glass gently away.

"This is a special day, my friend. Someone's coming to see you." Hamilton smiled. "You'd better drink and eat well so your friends see how much you've been progressing."

"Friends? Me mates?" Newkirk frowned warily. "Who's coming?"

"Let's make this a surprise," Lydia said, offering the glass one more time.

All of a sudden, Newkirk felt rather excited. Seeing his friends was exactly what he needed to feel back in the real world. He took the glass in his hand and his eyes became lost in the ripples of the water. Hamilton looked at Lydia and shrugged. He crouched down next to Newkirk.

"What do you see, Peter?" His voice was soft and neutral. "Are you thinking of your friends?"

"Me friends," repeated Newkirk.

"Where are they, Peter? Can you see them?"

"It is dark and dusty..."

"Yes, like a tunnel..."

"Tunnels..."

"Yes, Peter? Tell me about the tunnels," Hamilton asked, hoping to help improve his patient's memory.

Newkirk frowned. He knew the words but was unable to put them in his mouth. He winced in pain. Hamilton was able to rescue the glass before Newkirk let it go. He shook his head.

"Damn headaches," he said. "They're delaying all our work with him."

"We have to talk to Frakes about that before it is too late." Lydia helped Newkirk to drink, holding the glass for him, and then to lie down. She refreshed his forehead with a wet cloth and smiled when he turned to her.

"I know there's something I 'ave to remember. But it 'urts every time..."

"It's all right. We're making progress. Don't worry about anything." Hamilton gently clasped Newkirk's arm for a brief moment before he walked away.

"Now, you get some rest. We'll be back later." Lydia made sure that he was ready to go back to sleep before leaving the room.

Newkirk closed his eyes and emptied his thoughts. After a while, he found his friends working at the tunnels back in Stalag Thirteen. He could see Kinch writing down a message that must have just come in from London, and relaying it to the others. Then, he could see Hogan putting the plans together for that night's mission. It involved another bridge that had to be blown up, this time in Hammelburg. To Newkirk's surprise, as well as everybody else's, Hogan had found him well enough to go out on the mission with Carter.

Just as they were about to head out, Hogan turned to his corporal with a stern look on his face. "Be careful out there."

"I always am, sir."

"No, I mean it. Be careful out there." Newkirk found himself beginning to wake up again, so he could barely catch his commanding officer's final warning. It seemed to be no louder than a whisper. "All is not as it seems."

He woke up startled by nothing in particular. The sun shone through the curtains and a fresh breeze caressed his face. As peaceful as everything looked, Newkirk felt a growing urgency of running away. He was not safe there. Did he only imagine Hogan's warning to him? He found himself wondering what exactly was going on.

However, before he had time to think further about his dream, the door opened. Lydia entered, smiling as always. "I'm glad you're already awake. I have the surprise we promised."

Someone came in behind her. Newkirk sat up. He saw the uniform first. USA Air Force... Sergeant. For the first time since he came to, Newkirk laughed. "Blimey, Carter!"

The sergeant ran and hugged his friend. "Newkirk, so good to see you!"

Lydia took a breath of relief and left them alone. The two friends stared at each other without saying a word. Finally, Carter stood up and shook his head.

"Boy, you look awful. May I sign your cast?" He pointed at Newkirk's right leg.

"Don't make ruddy funny faces."

Carter took his pen and wrote: _Strive to be happy._

Newkirk chuckled. "Are you becoming a poet now?"

"It's never too late," Carter modestly shrugged. "But this one's not mine."

"You're changing indeed... What's with that ruddy uniform? You're still in the Air Force?"

"Well, they don't set you loose right away, you know?" Earlier, Carter had asked Lydia for a wheelchair to help his friend. She didn't think it was a good idea for him to leave the room without a nurse or doctor present, but agreed that he could leave his bed and sit by the window. Grabbing another chair, Carter sat next to his friend. "There's still stuff to do around here. I still have a couple of weeks left."

Newkirk laughed and shook his head. "If I were you, I'd run away. They couldn't keep me in this bloody 'ole more than could be expected for me recovery." He leaned back in his wheelchair. "'Ow are our mates taking it? Are they still in it too?"

Carter began to play with his hat. He looked troubled, as though he had been rehearsing this part too much and he was just forgetting the lines. He looked at Newkirk with a pained, sorrowful expression in his eyes. "Boy, this is hard... Newkirk," he said, lowering his voice, "they're gone."

"Gone," Newkirk chuckled. "Gone where? 'Ome?"

"No... They," Carter looked around for some other point to fix his eyes, unable to look his friend in the face. "See... The camp... the Stalag was under fire... We sheltered as much as we could... T-There were casualties..."

Newkirk forgot to breathe for a moment. He could almost guess what would come next. He did not want to hear it; he did not want it to be true. He shook his head and gasped for air. He clenched the wheels of his chair. Carter gently grabbed his arm, afraid that his friend might slip out.

"It was a direct hit. We lost five." Tears rolled down involuntarily. "I'm so sorry..."

"No... No... No!" Newkirk stopped fighting. "It can't be true. They can't... Louie, Kinch..." The names came out in whispers. One thought assaulted him and would not leave him be. He clenched both of Carter's arms, which made him look his friend eye to eye. "Colonel Hogan! Carter, where's the colonel!"

"He's fine," Carter nodded. "He's in Washington, but he'll be back soon. I just telegraphed him about your progress. He's dying to see you."

Newkirk could not enjoy the good news. He had just lost two of his best friends. Inside, the turmoil began to hurt. He could still picture their faces, as if he had only last seen them yesterday. "'Ow long since they-"

"Almost one month. It was right after the accident... War came to an end just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"Bloody 'ell," Newkirk said. "Sorry I wasn't there for you, mate."

"You were. I spent most of my time here after that. We kept us both company, I suppose," he shrugged and smiled slightly. "So weird, isn't it? Things ending this way, after all we've been through."

Before Newkirk's mind could bring any memories of his days before the explosion, a piercing pain in the back of his head sent him backwards. He raised his hands to his head and clenched his teeth to suppress a scream. Carter sat on the edge of his chair and grabbed Newkirk by the arms.

"I'm all right," Newkirk gasped.

"Are you sure?" Carter was concerned. "I should get you back to your bed, or I'd better call Lydia or the doctors-"

"No! No, please, don't. They will just send me to sleep again." He opened his eyes. "I want to be with you a little longer, Carter... I need a familiar face around for a change." He smiled.

"We can get out of this place if you want to."

"We can?"

"Sure, it's not like you're a prisoner here or something," Carter chuckled.

"So, it's all over, then?" Newkirk said absently staring at the grass rippling with the wind outside his bedroom window.

"Yep, unbelievable, isn't it? All that time dreaming about the end of the war, and it's finally here." Carter shrugged. "Not like we planned it, right? Only two of us made it out of the front gate…" he let his voice trail off.

"Never is, Carter. It never is," Newkirk replied, trying to keep his eyes from becoming misty.

"But surely, we had a good time back in the Stalag, right?" Carter asked, trying to cheer his friend up.

"I don't feel well talking about that yet," Newkirk pressed his eyes with his fingers. "I'm going to miss those two blokes."

"Me too. Everything has happened so fast that I haven't had time to think much about that." He smiled sadly. "I guess it'll come over me once I get home."

"'Ome..." Newkirk repeated.

"You're going home too. Where do you live again?"

Newkirk closed his eyes. He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "Can't remember." He rubbed his temple. "Can't even remember me sister's name."

Carter touched Newkirk's hand and smiled. "Everything will come back to you eventually. _Time heals all wounds_."

Newkirk looked at him and frowned. "What did you say?"

"Time heals all wounds, it's an old saying." Carter grinned. "Did I get it wrong?"

"No," he said. "That's the right saying. Time 'eals all wounds, indeed." He turned back to the window. "Me 'ead is a mess, Carter."

"Not that much. You remembered my name at least. That's a good start." He smiled. "Hey, cheer up. I'll stay around as much as you need me."

"You've got to go 'ome eventually."

"In that case, I'll take you with me." He was rather enthusiastic. "It's not a big house but country living will do you good. You'll have all that fresh air and open space to finish recuperating in."

"Country living, all right," Newkirk laughed. "I appreciate your offer, but I need bricks on me walls and concrete under me feet."

"Such a city mouse," Carter chuckled.

"That's what Mavis always says-" Suddenly, his head spun. For half a second, the grass, blue skies and other people outside of his window disappeared. It happened so fast that Newkirk wondered if he had just had a hallucination. He shook his head.

"Is something wrong?"

Newkirk looked at him with puzzled eyes. "I shouldn't 'ave said what I said."

"Why? That doesn't make any sense." Carter smiled. "What did you say, anyway? Mavis?"

"Me sister's name. It just came out..." The headache took him by surprise and he screamed.

Carter stared at him anxiously. "That's it. I'm calling the doctor-"

"Don't!" Newkirk grabbed Carter's arm. "Take me out of this place, Carter. It's not safe... Can't talk..." Another fractionated second passed before his eyes. Suddenly, the man in front of him did not look like his friend. Newkirk withdrew his hand. "Who are you?"

"What do you mean?" Carter tried not to look concerned. "It's me, Carter."

Newkirk took a better look and breathed deeply. "There you are... I'm sorry... I don't know what's going on in me 'ead lately..." He smiled faintly. "Did I scare you?"

"Not at all," he lied. "It's all right. Everything will be all right, you'll see." He looked around. "I'd better help you get back to bed, okay? You need to rest."

Newkirk did not protest. He even accepted Carter's help to get out of his wheelchair and into his bed. The minutes went by without much more to say. Soon, Newkirk had to close his eyes and unplug from the world. Carter left the room.

Lydia was in the hallway. They both looked exhausted. "How did it go?"

"Rather well." He nodded. "He remembered his sister's name, Mavis."

"Good, that's really a progress. At last, we've got something to work with."

"Yes, another step. Although," he frowned, "he's kind of confused right now. He is losing contact, if you know what I mean. And the headaches, he's in real pain."

"We'll give him something for that. I'll talk with Doctor Frakes and see what he recommends." Lydia smiled. "Go rest. I'll keep you informed of what happens. You've been a great help."

"It was fun all the way." He smiled and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Of Cats and Envelopes

Newkirk felt a prick in his arm. He woke up emitting a small gasp, struggling to get his arm back. "Don't! What the bloody 'ell-?" He looked at the man working over him and frowned. "Carter?"

Hamilton looked at Lydia who was at the other side of the bed and then he looked back at Newkirk. "No, I'm Doctor Hamilton. Don't you remember meeting me?"

"Hamilton?...Hamilton," Newkirk ran the name over in his head. He let out a small smile as he replied, "Yes, I remember you now."

"You've been calling him Carter. Is he a friend of yours?" Lydia asked

Newkirk stared at her, then at him with puzzled eyes. "Me friend Carter... 'E came to see me this morning."

Lydia and Hamilton exchanged quick glances. She crouched down. "Peter, you've been in a great deal of pain all day long. There have been no visitors today."

Newkirk shook his head. "No, 'e was 'ere... You brought 'im in!" He tried to sit up but Hamilton stopped him. Newkirk lied down unable to put up a fight. "We went to the window... we talked..."

"You talked? About what?" Hamilton asked.

"'E signed my cast." He pulled away the blankets. The cast was as white and clean as new. "Blimey!" Newkirk turned his head to the window and closed his eyes.

"I gave you a mild sedative. It will make you a little sleepy, but it'll take the pain away," Hamilton said. "Doctor Frakes wants to see you."

Newkirk answered with a half smile. There was silence for a while. Lydia picked up some equipment and checked his vitals once again.

"You'll feel better soon," she said reassuringly, gently putting her hand on his shoulder before removing it.

"I'm really scared, Lydia." Newkirk could hardly keep his eyes open.

She stroked his hair. "Don't be. We're taking good care of you."

He kept staring at her until his mind drifted away.

Doctor Frakes held the door open while an orderly and Hamilton wheeled the gurney inside. Together, they laid Newkirk on the examination table. Frakes checked his pupils. "How long has he been out?"

"No more than ten minutes. The sedative must be wearing off by now." Hamilton stared at the patient. "He's been responding more or less as you predicted, Doctor. Except for those headaches-"

"I know, but the treatment will overcome that obstacle eventually. The pattern in cases like this is basically the same. That makes things easier."

"I see what you mean. This procedure makes me feel more like a humanitarian."

Frakes chuckled. "Well, if you want to put it that way." He went to the cabinet and removed several needles and flasks. "Now, if I may, I need to prepare the patient for the next phase. I'd prefer to be alone with him."

"Certainly. We must prepare ourselves too, anyway."

"Do it very carefully. Every single detail counts."

"See you later, Doctor Frakes."

"_I'm finally losing me marbles, aren't I?"_

"_Don't say that," Carter tossed a card on the table. _

"_Yeah, you seeing us around you doesn't mean that you're crazy." Kinch put on his earphones and began to tap in the telegraph._

"_I'm not seeing you all, only Carter. You and LeBeau are dead." Newkirk chose one of his cards and put it on the table. "Your turn," he said to Carter._

"_Nous, dead?" LeBeau chuckled and poured more coffee into their mugs. "But we're here."_

"_Of course you're 'ere. You're a figment of me ruddy imagination. Right, Kinch?"_

"_Absolutely," Kinch shrugged. "Look at us. We're playing all the time. We're having nice chats about nothing in particular. There are no missions, no underground. I'm not even receiving any important messages through the transmitter."_

"_Why do you have your earphones on, then?" Carter asked._

"_Because this is the way he usually sees me."_

_All of them turned to Newkirk. He smiled. "That's 'ow I like to see us, mates. Having fun, being happy. Kinch is the man with the inquisitive eye, LeBeau pushes me around and you, Carter, you're my quiet side." He tilted his head. "You don't 'ave to 'ave all the answers, but you're always there to support me."_

"_That's nice, but we're not helping much going like this. You're still kinda crackers," Carter said, putting down another one of his cards._

"_Carter is right, we need more ideas. We need someone to organize the plan of action." LeBeau stood up. "Where's the colonel, Newkirk? If you had one in your head yesterday, where is he now?"_

"_He doesn't have one at the moment because he's afraid of him," said Kinch._

"_Afraid of what?" Carter frowned. "Are you still thinking about the colonel's warning to you yesterday?"_

"_I don't know," Newkirk shrugged. "At the moment, 'e'd probably rip me 'ead off for being so weak-" Inwardly, Newkirk shuddered to himself. He had forgotten all about Hogan's warning until Carter had reminded him of it._

"_And you would be right." Hogan came through the tunnel and stopped in front of Newkirk. "You should be preparing for that mission tonight. The bridge in Hammelburg still needs to be blown up. Expect the unexpected."_

"_Blackjack!" Carter proudly put the rest of his cards on the table._

"_Blimey, Carter, can't you even remember what game we're playing?"_

"_Boy, it's your dream," Carter shrugged with a smile._

Frakes injected Newkirk in the arm and waited for him to open his eyes. The doctor greeted him with a fatherly smile.

"Hello, Peter."

Newkirk stared at him. "Doctor Frakes?"

"Good, you have a great memory."

"I never forget a name, or a face..." he sighed. "Well, maybe it doesn't show lately." He tried to move his arms but they did not respond.

Frakes saw the panic forming in Newkirk's eyes. "Don't worry. I gave you something to relax your muscles. You need to rest. We're just going to talk." He sat next to the examination table. "It seems that the headaches you've been experiencing could be connected to your memory loss."

"I could've told you that." Newkirk closed his eyes.

"Tell me, Peter. How do you feel?"

"Confused... Things 'ave been getting more and more strange since I woke up."

"Like what?"

Newkirk sighed. "I saw Carter yesterday."

"Carter? One of your fellow freed prisoners," Frakes said while serving him water. "It's natural that after a while of not seeing your friends, you dream about them."

"You don't understand, I didn't dream about Carter. He was 'ere yesterday." Newkirk turned to him. "'E came 'ere to visit me. But now, nobody seems to remember 'im."

Frakes crossed his arms over his chest. "Peter, you must understand that your mind is a little overworked at the moment. You see what you want to see. The stress of those memories are causing you headaches."

"And hallucinations?" Newkirk raised an eyebrow.

Frakes felt the hostility and grinned. "Hallucinations are completely normal in cases like yours."

"Carter was 'ere. 'E was." Newkirk was suddenly sleepy.

"What did you two speak about?"

"H-'e told me... that... some friends... died..." He dragged the words while slipping into an unconscious state.

Frakes was satisfied. "Tell me about your friends, were you close?"

"Very... like brothers..."

"Did you work together?"

"Work..."

"What kind of work did you do together?"

Newkirk moaned and shook his head. "No..." He tried to clench his hands into fists while trying to break out of the effects of the drug. He clenched his teeth until his jaw trembled. Frakes was more desperate than angry when he came closer to whisper in Newkirk's ear.

"The pain will go away when you talk."

"T-talk?"

"You know you have to talk about it. You know you have to let it go," Frakes said. "Peter, it's all right to speak up now. Everything is over. The war is over."

Newkirk became more and more agitated. He could see his friends in his mind, planning, working the ideas... digging the tunnels. His head could not stand any more pain—he had to talk.

Frakes saw him opening his mouth, struggling to keep his words from coming out. Newkirk gasped.

"T-the Minister..."

Frakes frowned. "The Minister? Who? Prime Minister Churchill?" He smiled, anticipating success.

Newkirk shuddered. "T-the Minister's cat is an angry cat..."

"What?"

"The Minister's cat is a bad cat... the minister's cat is a crazy cat... the minister's cat is a devilish cat..."

Frakes stood up. He wanted to slap Newkirk if he only could. He chose another syringe and filled it up from a flask. "You can't defy me! This is for your own good, you know that." He injected Newkirk and waited. The Englishman's features relaxed. "That's much better. Now, you'll go to sleep. I expect you to be more cooperative when you wake up."

"_The Minister's cat is a mysterious cat... The minister's cat is a naughty cat... The minister's cat is an odd cat..."_

"_Stop it," said Newkirk._

"_The Minister's cat is a painful cat..."_

"_That's enough, Carter." Hogan kept his foot on the bench, leaning over his knee. Once again they were all in the radio room, sitting at the conference table. He turned back to Newkirk. "But what else did he ask you?"_

"_Nothing specific," Newkirk shrugged. "'E told me that it's all right to talk now that the war is over."_

"_But the war isn't over, is it?" Carter interrupted his rhyme to look at Newkirk. "Where was I?"_

"_Going for letter Q," Kinch said adjusting his earphones._

"_Oh, yes. The Minister's cat is a cute cat."_

"_Cute is with a 'C'," LeBeau snorted, pouring coffee for them. "That man is bad, Newkirk. Do you want me to get rid of him?"_

"_I don't know what I want." Newkirk rubbed the back of his neck. "Sometimes, they look friendly. Sometimes, they look mean... Sometimes, they don't look anything."_

"_The Minister's cat is a questionable cat... the Minister's cat is a rambunctious cat..."_

"_Bugger off, Carter!"_

"_I'm sorry, Newkirk. You started it and you won't be able to sleep until I finish it."_

"_What?"_

"_Have you ever woken up with a song in your head?" Kinch grinned. "That's how it goes."_

_Newkirk frowned. "Blimey!"_

"_The Minister's cat is a... sinister cat... The Minister's cat is a... terrifying cat... The Minister's cat is a..."_

"_Listen, Newkirk. I want you to be alert at all times—as hard as that may be for you at the moment." Hogan stared at him seriously, with a stern expression on his face. "They might be using some new techniques that we don't know about."_

"_...ingenious cat."_

"_That's with an 'I,' Carter," LeBeau rolled his eyes._

"_Damn! The Minister's cat is an... unusual cat... the Minister's cat is vicious cat... the Minister's cat is a wicked cat... the Minister's cat is a... xenophobic cat... the Minister's cat is a young cat…"_

_Newkirk looked at Hogan. "This is completely barmy."_

"_I know, but you can do this. We'll take you out of the problem quite soon."_

"_Got to go now," Newkirk stood up, though he found that he was rather unwilling to let go of his dream._

"_No, wait!" Carter said. "I haven't finished yet. I need an adjective that start with 'Z.'"_

"_For the love of-" Kinch shook his head and took the earphones in his hands. "The man is stressed enough as things are right now."_

"_He doesn't need you to get him in a quest for adjectives that start with 'Z'." LeBeau poured some more coffee._

"_It's all right, guys. I'm sure Newkirk would not spend his sleeping hours thinking of what to say about the Minister's cat." Hogan grinned and pushed Newkirk. "Go on, Corporal. We'll be right where you can find us."_

_Newkirk stared at them for a last time. He tried to smile. "See you later."_

"_The Minister's cat_?" Hamilton laughed. "Well, Doctor, that shows a lot of ingenuity from our patient, doesn't it?"

Frakes came to sit down with him at the conference table. The man did not show emotions quite often. Hamilton had to imagine that behind those cold blue eyes there was a smile struggling to come out. "I must admit that he's very resourceful. I'm the one to blame for that, I guess. It could have been the Frenchman or one of the Americans."

"In any case, he was fortunate to have you here."

"You may say that," Frakes said while drinking some tea. "Is everything ready?"

"As much as we could." Hamilton hesitated. "I don't know about this next step, Doctor. It's quite risky."

"If we don't take risks we never depart, Michael."

"But, what if something goes wrong, Jonathan? We might get into trouble."

"There is no right or wrong in our business. We go forward, we have setbacks." He shrugged. "Any way we learn something and move on." He smirked and his face took on a twisted appearance. "Relax, my friend. The world is a stage. Somehow, we're always performing. Tell Miss Winget to initiate the next phase. Go, I'll see you soon."

Hamilton left. He was a good young man, Frakes thought. _Too good for the job_. Fortunately, Frakes never let his shields down. If things did not work out with the young Doctor Hamilton, they would simply rescind of his services. He had some more tea and grimaced. These people could not tell the difference between English tea and herbs in a bag.

Newkirk tossed and turned until his eyes opened with a start. "...a zany cat!" He heard himself shouting the words. Fortunately, joyful Lydia was not near him to listen. He sat up and pressed his hands over his eyes to rub the sleep away. His head hurt, but at least, the movement had returned to his arms and legs.

He stared at the cast on his right leg. It was impeccable, just as it had been the first day. Newkirk shook his head. He saw Carter signing the bloody thing. Or he did not... What did he write? "_Strive to be happy_," he quoted. That did not sound much like his friend. Maybe he had dreamed the entire thing. Maybe he should be less suspicious about these people. After all, he was the one wearing the hospital pajamas. There was a good chance that he was going through a delirious state after the accident.

The accident. He tried to remember. Who was there? What were they doing?... Newkirk could not get to a third question. First of all, the developing headache was threatening to turn into a migraine. Second, Lydia was just opening the door.

"Good evening." She would not quit smiling. She served him some water. "Plenty of water, that's always the best medicine."

Newkirk took the glass and drank from it. He stared at Lydia, who was fanning herself with an envelope. "Good news?"

"I have a nice surprise for you." She handed him the envelope.

"Who's this from?" Newkirk asked staring at the letter in his hand.

"Open it and we'll know."

Newkirk read. "It's from Mavis."

"Your sister!" Lydia broke protocol and sat with him on the bed. "Well? What does she say?"

Newkirk shook his head. "She says that she and her family are all right. They're moving... Things are a little tight in London, but they're getting better. She's happy that the war is over..." He continued reading the letter. "Apparently, the RAF must have contacted 'er. She says she's sorry that she can't be 'ere in person for me, but that she'll come as soon as possible." _Why can't she come now?_ he thought to himself, trying to push back his headache.

"That is marvelous news, isn't it?"

"I suppose," he said.

"So? What's with the long face?" Lydia smiled.

"I don't feel 'er... I don't see me sister in that letter..."

Lydia took the letter. "What do you mean? Isn't that her handwriting?"

Newkirk sighed. "That's a good question... I don't remember me own sister's handwriting."

Lydia kept quiet for a moment. Then, she patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, don't be silly. Only yesterday, you couldn't remember her name." She got up and made him get under the blankets. "In the meantime, it's good to know that she's doing all right. Don't you think?"

"I guess..." Newkirk's eyes began to close involuntarily. "Will you be 'ere when I wake up, Lydia?"

She smiled. "There's no other place I'd rather be, Peter."

As soon as she knew that he was asleep, she left the room to greet Hamilton and Frakes, who were waiting for her.

"Well?" they asked at the same time.

"What was in the envelope?" Hamilton questioned.

"Oh, the usual," Lydia replied with a smile. "It was a letter from his sister. Having some contact with his family is imperative in order for our patient to get better quickly." With that, she turned back into Newkirk's room, waiting for him to wake up again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Welcome Back

"Wake up. Come on, Newkirk."

Newkirk sighed. He dreaded every single time he opened his eyes because he did not know what he would find. Even so, he could not force himself to sleep forever. Sooner or later, his eyes opened, and someone was there to greet him as though everything was all right.

He looked up at the sky. First, he noticed that he was lying on the ground. There were people around but it took him one minute to recognize their faces. Carter leaned over him and smiled.

"Are you done with that ball? We want to go on playing."

Newkirk frowned and lifted his head to see the ball that he was hugging against his chest. Confused was an understatement at the moment. Newkirk wondered where the hospital had gone. He sat up, staring at the faces around him. He was not surprised to see Carter. After his first visit, Newkirk had been looking forward to a second encounter with his friend. However, he was not prepared to see LeBeau and Kinch standing right next to him. He was still finding it extremely hard to come to terms with their deaths.

"Am I dreaming again?" he asked, rubbing his eyes slowly and carefully.

"Very funny," Kinch said. "Are you going to give us the ball back or what?"

"Go ahead, you're delaying the game." LeBeau put his fists on his hips.

Newkirk looked around. There were prisoners, barracks and guards... He was back in Stalag 13. Or was he? Wasn't he at the hospital just the night before? Yet, he was in his uniform, and no one seemed to be wondering where he had been or how he was doing.

"Come on, Newkirk. Get up, man." Kinch offered him his hand.

Newkirk stood up slowly, trying to put his ideas into a logical order. First, there had been the accident; then, Carter had come in with his news about the end of the war. Two of his friends had died while he was in the coma... So far, so creepy, he thought. Suddenly, Colonel Hogan came out of Barracks Two and walked towards them. Newkirk felt his heart beating faster. Somehow, everything looked as though it was coming back to normal, bit by bit.

"All right, what's going on here?" He stopped in front of Newkirk.

"LeBeau knocked down Newkirk with the volleyball and now Newkirk doesn't want to give him the ball back," said Carter.

"Hey, I didn't mean to hit him." LeBeau jumped. "It's not my fault that les Anglais don't know how to duck."

"Newkirk, why don't you give LeBeau back his ball?"

The corporal stared at Hogan without paying too much attention to the conversation. "Sorry, the what?"

"The ball, Newkirk. We want to go on playing." Kinch pointed at the object in Newkirk's arms.

"Oh, this ball." Newkirk raised his eyebrows with surprise. He handed it back to LeBeau. "Sorry."

LeBeau shook his head and went back to the game. Hogan narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "What's going on?"

"Going on?" Newkirk lowered his eyes and noticed his boots. The cast was gone; no more broken ankle. He shifted from one foot to the other several times and laughed. "It was a dream," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Hogan asked still waiting for an answer.

"Blimey, Gov'nor!" Newkirk could not be any happier if he tried. "It was a ruddy dream!"

Hogan stared at him with a frown. "So, you're okay?"

"Never better, Colonel," said Newkirk. "Never better."

Newkirk spent the rest of the afternoon playing and joking with his friends. Everything was normal again. He could not remember having laughed so much in a long time. The nightmares were over. This was as real as it could be. Those bad dreams had given him a lesson in friendship, and he found himself appreciating every moment to the fullest that he spent with his mates.

"Oh, it's so good to be back." He sat after the last match of volleyball. The day was slowly dying and, for a change, he was not afraid of going back to bed. He reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

Carter came to sit next to him. He was sweaty and smiley as always. "Boy, that's so beautiful, isn't it?"

Newkirk looked at the sunset and nodded. "One of the best I've ever seen."

Just then, Schultz came walking up slowly, herding the prisoners into their barracks. "Raus! Raus!"

"Hey, Schultzie," Newkirk said with a smile. His greetings were not returned.

"Curfew is in ten minutes. Roll call in thirty minutes. All prisoners must be in the barracks now."

Newkirk resented the German sergeant's emotionless tone but did nothing with that. He just figured that today might an "off" day for him. "Sure, Schultzie, as soon as I finish with this."

"You finish now, Englander!" Schultz straightened up and glared at him. His eyes were cold while he sketched an evil smile. "Or I'll finish it for you."

Newkirk stared at him warily. He could have said something funny or witty about Schultz's attitude. However, he preferred to play it safe and obeyed. "No problem, Sergeant," he said tossing the cigarette on the ground. He waited for Schultz to walk away before getting up. "Blimey, did you see that?"

"Yes," said Carter with concern. "Y-you called him _Schultzie_?"

"Why, yeah." Newkirk shrugged. He turned to see Carter shaking his head. "We call 'im that all the time, don't we?"

"Say what? In your dreams, maybe," Carter replied, still disapproving of Newkirk's behavior, before standing up.

Newkirk looked at Carter entering the barrack. He stayed seated for a moment. He thought about the incident. A dream? Could it be possible? "Not bloody likely," he chuckled to himself before going inside.

Newkirk sat at the table with Kinch and Carter. He pretended not to notice their stares when he looked for his deck of cards. "What do you say? Poker or Blackjack?"

"Quoi?" LeBeau turned from the stove. "Do you want to get us all in report?"

"In report for what?"

"Gambling and playing cards is against the rules," Kinch said.

"What's with you, Newkirk? First you call Schultz the sergeant and Schultzie, and now this?" Carter sighed.

"He called Schultz the sergeant and _what_?" Kinch turned to Newkirk. "Are you crazy?"

Newkirk did not know if he should laugh or get mad. "You certainly are pulling me leg, aren't you? We've been calling 'im that since the beginning. 'E's our friend."

Colonel Hogan came from his office. "Keep it down, we're in curfew. Do you want them to cut down our light hours?"

"Newkirk is acting weird, sir." LeBeau pointed at the Englishman with his spoon.

"I'm not. This is 'ow I am!" Newkirk stood up. "You're the ones acting mad."

"Like what, Newkirk?" Hogan narrowed his eyes.

"Well, you seem scared of Schultz," he said.

"With a very good reason." Carter shrugged. "He's really mean. He's not Sergeant-of-the-Guard for nothing, boy!"

"Schultz?" Newkirk chuckled. "Now you're going to tell me that Klink is a dictator."

"They don't call him _Iron Eagle_ for nothing," Kinch nodded.

Newkirk had to sit down again. "Blimey. What's going on 'ere?"

"Maybe LeBeau hit you harder than you thought." Hogan crossed his arms over his chest.

"Hey! I didn't mean it!" LeBeau said while filling the coffee pot with water.

Newkirk jumped again. "What the bloody 'ell are you doing?" He turned to Hogan. "Did you see that?"

Hogan looked at the corporal with his eyes wide opened. "Good Lord, LeBeau, you're making coffee at tea time!"

Everybody laughed. Everybody, that is, except for Newkirk. This was not just a simple hallucination on his part. All of his friends were losing their heads.

"All right, enough." Hogan came and assumed his usual position at the head of the table. "We have a job for tomorrow. This is how it will go."

"Finally," Newkirk said with some relief. Working a mission would do some good for everybody.

"Are we getting our mail at last?" Carter asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid those are still in Colonel Klink's safe." Hogan sighed.

"Do you want me ten golden fingers to fetch the mail, Gov'nor?" Newkirk assumed that would be the next point in the agenda. Instead, he received another round of weird stares from everyone. Somehow, he knew that there was another reprimand coming up.

"Your what? Newkirk, are you trying to give me a stroke? Because you're working really hard on it." Hogan looked at him with concern. "You don't enter Klink's office just like that. Heck, _I _barely go in there, and I'm the senior POW!"

"B-But I do..." He looked around for some friendly eyes. Instead, he only found confusion and outrage.

"You do what?" Carter asked.

"L'Anglais est dingue," LeBeau said with pity. [1]

"First, you called Schultz names and now you say that you can crack Klink's safe?" Carter glared at him.

Newkirk pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I probably dreamed about that too."

Hogan waited a minute before speaking again. "Moving on, the Red Cross representatives are coming in two weeks. Colonel Klink wants barracks and prisoners in shape for the reception. We're volunteers to plant some flowers around the Stalag."

Newkirk turned around. The men nodded. He turned to Hogan and waited. He waited until he could not wait any longer. "All right, I've got to ask. Is that it? Planting flowers is tomorrow's big plan?"

"I know that you're not too keen for physical work, Newkirk. But this order comes from high above." Hogan shrugged.

"High above?" For some reason, he knew better than to mention or say _London._

"Yeah, Colonel Klink." LeBeau put the coffee on the table.

'_Ere we go again_, Newkirk thought. He suddenly found himself becoming dizzy. He went to the sink to splash some water on his face. Then, he noticed that the faucets were fixed to the sink. He frowned. Without saying a word, he went outside.

The water container was in its usual place, but there was no soup-can periscope whatsoever. Moreover, it seemed that there had never been a periscope in there. Newkirk knelt down to examine the place from different angles. He did not notice Carter sneaking up from behind.

"What are we looking for?"

Newkirk jumped. "Ah, er," he stammered. He remembered that just minutes ago, LeBeau was making coffee in their transmitter and no one seemed to care about it too much. Suddenly, he felt that his friends should be the last ones to consult about missing equipment. "Nothing, actually."

Hogan called them from the door. "Carter! Newkirk! Get inside before somebody sees you!"

Newkirk came back with a strange feeling in his gut. He looked at the stares of concern around him when he sat down at the table. Everybody was too quiet, but Newkirk did not notice. He was still pondering about this reality in which he was actually living. A disturbing thought assaulted him all of a sudden. He looked at the bunk on his left. It was the one that LeBeau and Kinch used to share. It was the one that represented their link with freedom.

Newkirk stood up and walked towards it. The men in the barrack kept looking at him, as though they were waiting for something to happen. The Englishman touched the upper board of the bunk, tapped on it but nothing happened. He sighed and sat on the edge of the lower bunk.

"Are you okay?" Hogan asked, showing some concern.

"The ball did hit him hard," Carter said.

"I didn't mean it!" LeBeau yelled. Then, he, Kinch and Carter suddenly became entangled in a noisy argument about the game.

Newkirk rubbed his temple with two fingers while watching his friends. He was frustrated, tired, and the pain in his head was growing again. One second before he started shouting at everybody, Schultz slammed open the door.

"Everybody out!" He did not say another word. The argument died immediately and the prisoners ran outside without speaking a word.

The lines formed efficiently and in complete silence. Newkirk sank his hands into his pockets and stared at the Kommandatur. He expected the door to open any minute now, but it did not.

After a couple of minutes shifting on his feet, Newkirk decided to speak up. "Where is 'e? Where's the bald eagle?"

Hogan was next to him and elbowed him on the ribs. "What's the idea? Do you want us all sent to the cooler?"

"What about that?" Newkirk chuckled. "You talked as if it was the worst place on Earth."

"Oh, my. Someone kidnapped Newkirk and put Sergeant York in his place," Kinch whispered. Small giggles supported his joke.

"Enough, boys." Hogan whispered too. "Newkirk, you should stop talking before they put you in the worst place next to the worst place on Earth."

"Quiet!" Schultz yelled. "Kommandant Klink announces that due to bad weather, Red Cross packages are being delayed one week!" He stared at the lines when a little murmur of disappointment started hovering around. "Very well, then. Two weeks of delay!" That immediately got the prisoners to be quiet.

Everybody, that is, except for Newkirk. "Bloody 'el-"

Schultz turned to see Newkirk and his words died in the air. The sergeant walked slowly towards him. "So, the Englander is not happy? He would like to write a complaint letter to his king, perhaps?"

"That would be an awfully jolly idea, sir," Newkirk said with a smile. However, all his intentions of keeping his festive attitude vanished at the sight of Schultz's wicked grin. "Although, I suppose, keeping me mouth shut would be much better."

"That is an awfully jolly idea indeed," Schultz approved with a nod.

Newkirk followed the group inside the barrack, occasionally turning over his shoulder to look at Klink's office. At some point, he thought he saw the curtains move.

"You know he's in there," Carter said. "Always watching us like an eagle."

"If you say so," Newkirk shrugged.

"The water for your tea is almost ready," LeBeau said.

"I don't want any-" Newkirk stopped and turned. "Louie, are you making me tea?"

"Bien sûre," LeBeau said naturally. "Like always."

"Always?"

"Yeah," Carter said. "He's in charge of our kitchen."

Newkirk chuckled. Certainly, LeBeau enjoyed cooking for the group, but he never remembered one time when the corporal would be making tea. Especially not after all of the jokes that Newkirk made about LeBeau's French cuisine.

"Well, you want your tea or not?" LeBeau glared.

"All right, I'll take it." Newkirk shook his head and grinned. "If me drinking tea makes you 'appy."

Things seemed to look normal. Again. Newkirk had his tea and even laughed at the jokes about Englishmen and tea. They had barely gotten ready for bed when the lights went out.

"It's only seven!"

"Oh, come on, Newkirk," Kinch said. "Don't tell me that you don't even remember we live in curfew."

"Well, I remember that, but it's only seven!" he protested again.

"Well, those are the rules." Hogan shrugged. "I suggest everybody go to bed and get a good night's rest. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Planting bloody petunias," Newkirk whispered to himself and Carter before jumping up to his bunk.

"Well, if you get any ideas about running for the border, I'll go with you," Carter said while getting into his own bed.

"That's interesting," Newkirk said, staring at the ceiling. "Don't we ever try to escape?"

"Boy, what a question. With Colonel Klink's watchful eye? We're lucky he can't read our minds."

"Funny. I don't remember having been scared of that wanker."

"And I don't remember you calling him names." Carter chuckled. "Some dream you were having. That ball hit you right in your brain. Don't you have a headache?"

Newkirk sighed. He did not feel like he had been dreaming at all. He frowned. Was this a dream or had he just woken up? He closed his eyes. In a couple of minutes, he was fast asleep without even trying, or particularly wanting to.

[1] The Englishman is crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: A Friend in Need

"_Seven?" _

"_It's Klondike, Carter. You deal seven cards."_

"_Intéressant, Kinch just got the hour for the rendezvous. It's at seven."_

"_Seven?" Newkirk looked at him from the conference table. He shuffled the deck of cards and began to deal them out on the table._

"_It's coming at seven," Hogan said, writing down some last-minute notes. "Do you have any problem with seven?"_

"_Nope, seven is 'eaven," Newkirk shrugged. "It's just that... I feel like I've seen this scene before."_

"_A déjà vu? That's intéressant."_

"_It's not a déjà vu, Louie," Kinch said. "This is a dream, Newkirk. You're just dreaming about our last meeting before the accident."_

"_The accident?" Newkirk frowned as a flash of light cut through his clouded mind. "Only that it wasn't an accident, was it?"_

_Hogan did not acknowledge the question, he proceeded with his list of things to do. "Seven it is, then."_

"_That's a lucky number. Nothing can go wrong with that." Carter smiled._

"_Except when Carter is in charge of-"_

"_Louie, we promised not to go historical with Carter's mishaps," Hogan said. "All right, we've just got the hour, and you all know the day and the place." He checked the points in his agenda. "No need to tell you that this is very secret. We can't afford to spill any beans or getting any cat out of the bag"_

"_Yeah, especially once our contact is here," Carter said._

"_We don't mention our contact either. Do I myself clear? Not a word about the mission outside of this room."_

"_That's good enough for me, Gov'nor. Not a word will come out of this mouth of mine."_

_Hogan nodded. "Only two more people know about this, besides us."_

"_That makes seven again," Carter said._

"_Intéressant."_

Newkirk woke up and discovered that things had not changed at all. Stalag 13 was still a regular prison camp. In fact, it was too regular to be recognizable. There were not any sabotage operations, espionage or escape committees. All they did was follow the rules and stay out of trouble. That was something Newkirk never understood. Life in a regular POW camp, as a regular POW prisoner, was dreadfully boring.

Plus, that story about Klink being a terror among prisoners and guards was just too much. Newkirk could not picture the world where that could actually happen. But before he would make any jokes about that, he wanted to see the Iron Eagle in person. He expected that early-morning roll call would give him the chance to see their kommandant.

Schultz kicked them out of the barracks at 5:20 in the morning. It was still cold and dark, but no one dared to protest. The German sergeant aligned them in their usual rows to count their heads. Newkirk was dying to joke about Schultz's attitude, but he restrained himself. Maybe his preservation instinct was stronger than he thought, or he was simply too scared of that big, mean man.

"Five twenty..." Carter said, staring at his wristwatch. "Five and two make seven."

"Sorry, what?" Newkirk frowned.

"Oh, I woke up with the number seven in my head." He shrugged. "I was just checking."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

"The camp has been divided into seven sectors. We need groups of seven men. Each labor group will be in charge of gardening and repairing one sector" Schultz paced while talking. "You'll have seven hours to complete the job. That is all."

Newkirk began to feel some pressure on the back of his head. _Seven?... what was so important about that number seven? _"Seven is 'eaven," he mumbled. He could feel Carter on his left and Hogan on his right shaking their heads and mumbling unintelligible reproaches. Schultz stopped his pacing around and turned to face Newkirk.

"The jolly joker starts early this morning." He came closer. "Perhaps a day in the cooler will put him in the mood for better jokes."

"Sergeant Schultz," Hogan straightened up in attention, "the groups have been already made, and we'll need Corporal Newkirk with us."

Schultz kept staring at Newkirk, but nodded. "Very well, then. I won't put him on report this time." He giggled. "Of course, if the Englander keeps asking for it, I might feel compelled to humor him."

Newkirk could not stand those devilish eyes on him and had to lower his head. Once the sergeant had resumed his stroll, Newkirk looked towards Klink's office, and he noticed that the curtains moved again. Newkirk's curiosity about this kommandant grew.

"Doesn't 'e ever come out of there?" he asked.

"He doesn't like us. He thinks we transmit deceases and plagues." Carter shrugged. "Stop asking so many questions. You know what they say: _curiosity killed the cat."_

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. "You got that right."

"Achtung!" Schultz put the prisoners and guards in attention. "You're very talkative this morning, gentlemen. Not a wise choice." He stopped in front of Newkirk. "Is the corporal ready for hard working labor?"

"As much as anyone else, I reckon." Newkirk shrugged. He found this sergeant rather intimidating.

"What are you doing?" LeBeau whispered. "We don't talk to him."

"But he asked me a question," Newkirk replied.

"Do we have to explain everything to you? Newkirk, you act as if you just fell down from the moon." Carter rolled his eyes.

"Carter!" Schultz scolded him. "Quiet on the lines!"

"Geez, Sergeant, you scared me." Carter smiled.

"So, the little sergeant is very talkative today?" Schultz grinned another one of his twisted expressions.

"Just as usual, sir, I mean, Sergeant. " Carter shrugged.

"We're not in a country club! Prisoners don't talk on the lines!" Schultz barked.

Carter looked surprised. He turned to Hogan, who slightly shook his head. The German sergeant caught the exchange of glances and resumed his walk.

"Of course, Sergeant Carter, you don't want to be excused from work for the rest of the day! Now, how do you say?"

Carter swallowed and mumbled. "I'm terribly sorry. It won't happen again."

"What did you say? Speak up!"

Newkirk could not restrain himself any longer. He stepped forward. "For Goodness' sake, 'e just said 'e's sorry. Are you bloody deaf?"

Carter turned to Hogan, but the colonel prevented him from talking. He just grabbed Newkirk's arm and pulled him back into the line. Schultz stared at the Englishman attentively and walked away. A guard came running from the kommandatur and whispered something in Schultz's ear. The German sergeant turned back to the prisoners.

"It's your lucky day, Englander. No punishment. Yet." Schultz did not grin this time. "Everybody go off to work now! I'll be watching you," he said to Carter and Newkirk.

Newkirk was still shaking as they walked to their section of the yard. Carter was on his right.

"Geez, Newkirk. You didn't have to do that."

"I never let me mates alone." Newkirk sighed.

Carter stared at him with a puzzled look. Hogan was already there to bring him back to reality. Carter nodded and got closer to Newkirk.

"It's okay. We're used to Schultz and his bad attitude." Carter gently clapped his friend's shoulder. "Don't tell me that you don't remember that."

"I can't remember... This is too different from what I've seen before," Newkirk replied, shaking his head back and forth.

"Before? The place you were dreaming about?"

"I don't know," Newkirk said. "I got confused. It never felt like a dream. It was real, very real. This is like a dream... A bad one... A bloody nightmare..."

"Haven't you thought that maybe this is the real deal and the other one was just a dream?"

Newkirk suddenly turned to Carter. "That's the most awful thing to say, Andrew!" He sped up just to leave the young sergeant behind.

Carter sighed and kept walking. He felt Colonel Hogan coming up from behind him. "This is too hard."

"You're doing it rather well."

"But I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it." Hogan clapped Carter's shoulder and grinned. "Just do your best."

HHH

"Are these seasonal flowers?"

Newkirk stopped digging and sat back. "Where does that bloody question come from? Who cares, anyway?"

"I do. It'll be nice to have flowers around all year long." Carter handed a bunch of _forget-me-nots_ to Newkirk and watched as the Englishman planted them in the niche they had just dug. "Did you plant flowers in the other Stalag thirteen?"

"The other Stalag thirteen?" Newkirk frowned. Two Stalag 13s? He had not thought about it quite like that. "No... we... there were other things to do."

"Like what?" Carter asked while continuing to dig another hole.

Newkirk rubbed his neck. "Like nothing... just different things."

Carter stared at him for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Small 'eadache." Newkirk kept working with the plants. "You ask too many questions."

"Sorry. It's just that you look different." He smiled. "Well, not different different, but you have changed."

Newkirk looked at the sky and sighed. "I don't think I'm the one that's changed, Carter. Even the sun feels different 'ere."

"_East west, home's best."_

Newkirk turned to Carter. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, it's just an old saying. You know, no matter where you go, home is better."

"I know what it means." Newkirk shook his head. "Something is definitely wrong 'ere."

They continued their work. Newkirk was putting his focus so much into it that he felt almost normal again. Suddenly, Carter sat back and stared at him.

"Tell me, what's _Klondike_?"

Newkirk wiped his forehead. That word hit him in his brain like a snowball, cold and hard. "Where did you-?"

"I heard you last night. You mentioned that name several times." Carter kept digging and planting without noticing Newkirk's apprehension. "It's a game or something, right?"

"G-game with cards... Solitaire..." He had to sit back and take a deep breath. In a fragmented second, things around him switched from the familiar prison camp to what apparently looked like a warehouse. There was no sky or trees, but only walls and a high ceiling. Newkirk did not have time to understand what he was looking at. However, before things changed back to normal, he turned with a startled expression to Carter. "Who are you?"

"Who what?" Carter frowned. "Are you okay?

Newkirk rubbed his eyes and blinked several times to clear his sight. He stared at Carter. Things had gone back to normal. "I don't know... It just 'appened again. For a moment... things changed."

"Oh, it's probably the heat." Carter handed him the canteen. "Here, have some water."

Newkirk took a sip and inhaled a deep breath. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the sky was blue and the prisoners were back to working with their flowers. Things had returned to what they were just seconds ago. He looked at Carter, smiling at him.

"Better?"

"Suppose so," Newkirk said. "It's so weird. Every time I try to think about the Stalag my 'ead 'urts and the world goes barmy."

"Maybe if you talked about your dreams that would help to-"

"You keep talking?" Sergeant Schultz had returned. He did not look happy.

"We were just-" Carter looked surprised.

"Quiet I say!" The German sergeant stamped. "You're asking for it, boy."

"Asking for what?" Newkirk stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. He had just had enough bullying. "We're getting the ruddy job done. What else in 'ell do you want from us?"

"Newkirk," Carter warned in a low voice.

"No, let him talk." Schultz came dangerously close. "Do you want to know what else I want from you, Englander?" He grinned. "I'll show you." He signed for one guard to bring Newkirk to the center of the yard.

Carter ran to Hogan, who was already on his feet. "We've got to do something!" he gasped.

Hogan shook his head. "This is not our matter, he's on his own."

"But this is not in our-"

"Carter!" Hogan stared at him. "We've done as much as we could. Maybe this is what he needs to come to his senses."

Carter turned to see what was going on next to his friend.

"Take those buckets and fill them with water!" the German sergeant ordered to his guards. "Now, Corporal, let's see how much talkative you are after the day is over."

Newkirk was so angry that he had almost forgotten the bizarre circumstances that had put him into that position. "Do whatever you bloody want, Serge. I just give up figuring out what is going on in this ruddy place."

Carter turned to Hogan one more time. "We must do something, sir."

"There is nothing we can do without risking everything else."

Carter shook his head in disbelief. He turned to Kinch and LeBeau but they were just standing there. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

Hogan looked at him running to the center of the yard. "Wait!" he growled in anger. "That's an impulsive boy. I hate impulsive people!" he said through his teeth.

Carter rushed to place himself between Schultz and Newkirk. "Sergeant, I think you're making a big mistake here."

"Carter, what're you doing?" Newkirk pushed him from behind.

"Listen, boy. My job is keeping order and discipline in the Stalag. We spot the troublemakers and work with them before they spoil the other prisoners." Schultz grinned. "I don't think you're in a position to tell me what to do and how."

"I can't allow you to hurt him."

"You can't?" The German sergeant laughed out loud. "You're just a simple little man. A POW, if you haven't noticed it. If you don't stay aside, I'll put you right next to the Englander!"

Carter took a purposeful breath. "M-maybe you should, sir, I mean, Sergeant."

Schultz grinned widely. He looked satisfied indeed. "Very well, then." He turned to his guards. "Bring two more buckets of water here!"

Newkirk shook his head. "Whatever you're doing, Carter, I won't be able to 'elp you."

"I'm not asking for your help, Newkirk." Carter smiled resignedly. "You don't have to be the savior all the time, you know?"

"Gentlemen," Schultz told them. "Lift the buckets and open your arms. You'll hold that water as high as you can until I say so."

They obeyed. Carter waited until Schultz walked away to say something.

"This is it? I thought it was going hurt," he laughed.

"It will, in a couple of 'ours." Newkirk shrugged. "It reminds me of high school."

"Didn't they kick you out?"

"Not before being canned, reprimanded and expelled several times," the Englishman smiled. "Those were the days."

"This is not that bad. I barely feel the weight."

"The first 'our is easy." Newkirk looked around. The indifference was uncanny. He might not be the most popular bloke in the neighborhood, but generally speaking, his fellow prisoners used to show some concern. He frowned. "Carter, why are you doing this?"

"I don't know... Because of what you said about not abandoning your mates, I guess. I think that's a good policy." Carter chuckled.

Newkirk sighed. "All right, then." He was quiet for a moment, while deciding on whether he should do something bolder. He decided to take the plunge. "Maybe you're right. I should be more open. We're friends, after all... I suppose it wouldn't 'urt anybody if I told you about me dreams…"

"Newkirk," Carter interrupted him. He bit his lower lip before talking. "I don't think I want to know."

"What?"

"It's okay. You don't have to talk about that. I don't want to hear it." Carter smiled. "I'm your friend, Newkirk. Please, remember that I just want to be your friend."

"Carter, you already are." Newkirk nodded. At the same time, he wondered whatever gave his mate the idea that he wasn't.

Somehow, he felt better. Mentally, at least. His arms began to resent remaining in the same position for so long. Soon, his hands and legs would start screaming for some rest. He knew that poor Carter could not be doing much better.

The hours went by very slowly but they passed all the same. The rest of the prisoners were long gone and finished with planning their flowers when Sergeant Schultz sent a couple of guards to escort Carter and Newkirk back to the barracks.

Carter stumbled at the first step but Newkirk was there to stabilize him. Disregarding his own pain, the Englishman straightened up and grinned. "Come on, Carter. Let's show these goons what the American pilots are made of."

Carter stared at him with curiosity. "Certainly, the Englanders don't have any trouble doing that, do they?"

Newkirk shook his head. "Start walking, Andrew."

Hogan was at the door when they came in. He did not look happy or pleased with any of them.

"Newkirk, Wilson is in my office. He wants to see you." He glared at the Englishman. "You do remember Wilson, don't you?"

"Sure," Newkirk said. Hogan's coldness puzzled him. "The medic."

"He's a licensed surgeon, Newkirk. Don't call him medic or he will take it personally."

_A surgeon!_ Newkirk almost laughed. This new Stalag had everything. Maybe that was what he needed. A real doctor would understand what was going on and be able to explain it back to him. He knew that had to be a good thing, because at this point, he was completely in the dark. Was he dreaming? Or had he just woken up from one, as Carter suggested? What was going on with him that one moment the war had ended and he was free, and the other, he was back in a prison camp? With his head swimming full of questions, he entered Hogan's office.

Hogan waited until the door closed behind Newkirk to turn to Carter. "Are you in pain?"

"My arms feel like rocks, but I think I'll survive."

Hogan did not smile; his expression hardened, instead. "You almost ruined everything. What were you thinking?"

"That Schultz was out of control. I couldn't allow him to-"

"It's his job. At least, one of us is doing what he's supposed to." Hogan pointed at him with his index finger. "One more act of improvisation from your part and you're out, understood?"

Carter nodded and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

HHH

Wilson performed a thorough exam on Newkirk. He smiled and joked as always. Newkirk almost forgot about all the other experiences that made him doubt about the veracity of this place. Wilson finished with him and sat at the desk.

"Tell me, Newkirk, are you sleeping well?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I guess," Newkirk said. "It's the bad dreams that bugger me the most."

"Dreams? About what?"

Newkirk shook his head. "That's a funny question. I can't answer." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Me mind goes blank every time I think of those dreams."

"Do you have any headaches, blackouts?" Wilson began to write on a notebook

"Everything at the same time." Newkirk sighed. "I blink and things change."

"Change? In what way?"

"Sometimes, the sky disappears... I see the ceiling, and the grass is cement... And the faces..." He shook his head.

"What happens with the faces?"

"They change... people I know, they aren't there anymore."

"But the dreams, Newkirk. What about the dreams?" Wilson kept a neutral tone.

Newkirk blinked. His eyes hurt. As much as he would like to talk, the memories deserted him at the very last moment. "Can't," he said. "I just can't remember."

"Are you in pain?"

"Pretty much. It starts every time I try to remember." He stared at Wilson and suddenly, the doctor changed. His hair was darker, and he wore a mustache. In addition, he was a little bigger than the regular Wilson. Newkirk sprung off his chair. "You're not Wilson!"

"Newkirk," the doctor said. He handed him a glass of water. "Here, have some water."

"Not bloody thirsty!" Newkirk stepped back. "Don't get any closer!" The headache began to pierce his temples. He pressed one side of his head with the palm of his hand. "What are you doing to me?"

Before Wilson could stop him, Newkirk jumped to the door and then ran to the exit. Hogan and Carter saw him crossing the entrance. There was no one fast enough to tackle him down or anything.

"Damn it!" Hogan slammed his hand on the table. "Wilson!"

The doctor came out. "I couldn't stop him!"

"He's running toward Klink's office!" Carter said before running outside.

"Came back here!" Hogan ran after Carter and pulled his jacket, stopping his sergeant in his tracks. "We can't do anything. It's out of our hands now."

"But, Klink's office-"

"It's not our problem now."

Newkirk ran as fast as his legs could take him. He noticed that there were guards around, but no one seemed interested in coming after him or worse yet, to shoot him. He reached the main building and tried the door. It was locked. He slammed it with a kick which opened it before he proceeded to enter.

The place was not at all like he remembered it. There was no secretary or a desk. The files were in cardboard boxes on the floor and there was a big map on the wall. Two men, one in uniform and one in civilian clothes turned to see him. Newkirk did not recognize the civilian, although the other one was a very familiar face.

Newkirk narrowed his eyes and pointed at him.

"What is this man doing here?" he and the man in civilian clothes shouted at the same time.

Newkirk felt a prick in his neck. He swirled around on his heels to see Hogan behind him. "Colonel?" He stared at the needle in the man's hand. Before he could say anything else, his strength abandoned him and he fell heavily to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Some Truth

"Where is Newkirk?" Hogan finally raised his voice, almost to a complete yell.

Klink almost dropped the pen in his hand. He had seen Hogan be able to keep his cool under the most extreme circumstances, until now. He remained sitting behind his desk as a measure of protection.

"Colonel Hogan, you're out of line," Klink said, avoiding eye contact at all times.

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet!" Hogan paced from one side in front of the desk to another. "I need to see Newkirk. Where is he? Why aren't we allowed to visit with him?"

"It's just a protocol issue. There are certain rules that need to be completed before they grant access to-"

"That's what you said before. What about that free pass that you promised I would have? It's been two days and I'm still waiting." He leaned his hands over the desk, staring his kommandant straight in the eye. "Colonel Klink, one of my men is missing. I hold you responsible for his disappearance."

"He hasn't disappeared. He's just... misplaced," Klink shrugged, faking indifference. "I'm sure they will call as soon as there is some news-"

"I want Newkirk here now!" Hogan talked through his teeth. "I swear to you, Klink, if Newkirk is not here by tomorrow night I'll-"

"You will what?" Klink suddenly sprung from his chair. "You're in no position to do anything!"

Hogan leaned forward on the desk and glared. "But_, _damn it, sir, _you _are."

Klink sat back and sighed. He took out his monocle and pinched the bridge of his nose before reinserting his eye piece. He would not tell Hogan that he had been up for two nights trying to think and figure out what to do about the entire situation. _Maybe I should follow Hogan's example and be more aggressive?_

"Colonel, you must return to your barracks now." Klink resumed his paperwork. "We'll talk later."

Hogan did not need to ask any more questions. Somehow, he knew that his words would produce some results.

"He's coming out," Kinch called to the others. "He doesn't look too happy."

Carter and LeBeau stood by the door, trying to read Hogan's face.

"No blood in his hands. Must've been a clean job," Carter grinned. He saw Kinch and LeBeau glaring at him and he shrugged. "From the way he was yelling in there, one could imagine anything."

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "He would not kill le kommandant in front of everybody."

Kinch nodded at Hogan when he got closer. "Sir?"

Hogan sank his hands into his pockets. "He still has his head attached to his shoulders, in case you've been wondering."

"No news yet?" Kinch both looked and sounded disappointed.

"I pulled some strings and pushed some buttons. Let's see what comes out of it." He entered the barracks and his men followed him. "Anything else in the agenda?"

"But, Colonel. How about Newkirk?" Carter asked.

"I'm on it, Carter, but our job doesn't just stop because one of us is missing."

"It could be risky. Newkirk knows too much." Kinch sat down at the table. "What if he's being interrogated somewhere?"

"We all know that he won't talk." LeBeau put the coffee on the table and sat down. "Peter is very strong that way."

"Yeah, and besides, he doesn't know anything about the new mission." Carter nodded. "By the way, do we have any more details about that? Besides the agent's name?"

"Here." Kinch unfolded a piece of paper. "Agent Klondike is arriving in three days, at nineteen hundred hours. The location will come in the next twenty-four hours." He handed the paper over to Hogan.

The colonel read and smirked. "They're asking us to clear the way for takeoff as soon as Klondike gets the required information."

"Clear the way for takeoff?" Carter was puzzled. "Is he flying back to England? They haven't said anything about a plane coming to pick him up, have they?"

"No, but it's implied." Hogan sighed. "Kinch, find the antiaircraft nests surrounding the rendezvous area. Carter, you'll prepare the fireworks to neutralize them before Klondike returns to London. Newkirk-" He stopped for a moment. He wanted to sigh, but he kept it to himself. He knew that as their commanding officer, he had to be strong for his entire team—even if he _was_ missing his corporal just as much as the rest of them. Besides, he knew that just from the way he was acting in Klink's office, they would know that he was just as concerned as the rest of them. "Newkirk was to make contact with the underground tomorrow night at the Hofbrau. It's your job now, LeBeau. They are bringing the information that Klondike has to take to London."

"Wouldn't it be easier to transmit it by radio and spare the middle man?" Carter asked.

"Leaks have been occurring too often lately," Kinch pointed out.

"London doesn't want to take any risks about this information falling into the wrong hands. It needs to be confirmed and analyzed as soon as possible. Apparently, that Klondike is the best qualified to retrieve and keep safe whatever the underground has found out." Hogan stood up. "Let's work this mission without any incidents. I don't need to tell you that Newkirk's situation could be related to this. We must not allow ourselves to be distracted under any circumstances."

Carter watched Hogan going into his office. For a moment, no one spoke. He took the deck of cards that Newkirk had left on the table the day of the explosion. _How I wish Peter was here to play a game with! _he thought to himself, before quickly putting down the deck. "Boy," he said, "that guy Klondike must be a kind of Captain America or something, jumping from a plane in the middle of Germany and flying back to London..."

"Yeah, I have to see that," Kinch nodded.

"I have to see Newkirk," LeBeau protested. "I don't think I'd be able to concentrate on anything until I see him back with us."

Kinch and Carter nodded to their friend's assessment.

HHH

"_What are we doing here? We should be preparing everything for Operation Klondike."_

"_Slow down, Carter. The bloke isn't coming until next weekend." Newkirk lifted the sledgehammer and threw it against the railroad spike at his feet. "Blimey, more physical work like this and I'll ask to be transferred to Africa. Ouch!" His right foot weakened all of a sudden._

_Carter ignored him. "I don't understand. We're not supposed to do anything for the Krauts," he said. "I vote for loosening the spikes and going back to camp."_

"_That's what we're doing." Kinch came in with a canteen of water. "But one every three spikes, we don't want to look like saboteurs here."_

_Newkirk wiped the sweat off his forehead and took a sip of water. "Where's the colonel?"_

"_Outside. Officers don't do hard work," Kinch smiled, "and LeBeau excused himself due to his claustrophobia."_

"_How about those ruddy guards? They put us 'ere and ran away from the tunnel," Newkirk frowned. "Is claustrophobia contagious? Everybody but us is outside." The pain in his leg increased and almost took him out of balance. "Blimey!"_

_Carter sat on the ground. "Did you know that Klondike is the name of a Solitaire game?" He chuckled. "What a question, of course you do. Anyway, I've been thinking. That guy must have received special training. One-man army, the iron man..."_

_Newkirk rolled his eyes and turned to Kinch. "'E 'asn't talked about anything else since London called about the bloke. You Americans are not used to superheroes, I reckon."_

"_They didn't say anything of Klondike being a Brit." Carter shrugged. "And besides, we do have Superman."_

"_That's understood, Carter. 'E must be from the East End, middle class, but grew up in Stepney..."_

"_You're making that up," Carter laughed. "You don't know a thing about him."_

"_And you two don't know how to keep secret a secret?" Kinch grinned. "We don't mention names or operations outside our boundaries, remember? Just because we're alone in here doesn't mean that somebody can't be listening in."_

"_Yes, I know. Sorry about that." Carter had some water too._

_Hogan and LeBeau came in. "How much time do you still need to complete this job? The guards are getting anxious," the colonel said._

"_We're almost done, Gov'nor." Newkirk nodded with a grin. "What're they anxious about, anyway-? Ouch!" He almost fell but his friends seemed not to notice that._

"_How come they let us alone in here?" Carter scratched his hair under his hat._

"_Funny, isn't it?" LeBeau said. "We could start walking to the other side. Who would notice?"_

"_That would be great in a perfect world," Hogan said. "Unfortunately, we're needed where we are."_

"_In a ruddy tunnel, fixing railroad spikes for the jerrys?" Newkirk bent forward to rub his leg._

"_Don't take it bad, Newkirk. It's the least we can do in recognition to all the inefficiency they provide us with all this time." Hogan grinned. "Let's get out of here, Klink promised double ration of bread and dessert when we got back."_

"_They bribed us for labor work on the railroad?" Carter chuckled. "I wish I would have brought my explosives, just to take advantage of the situation."_

"_All right, we'll speculate about their motives in our cozy barracks, please." LeBeau began to feel cold sweat forming in the back of his neck. "Ces tunnels me donnent la chair de poule._ [1]_" _

_As always, Kinch turned around to see that nothing was left behind. However, he quickly noticed a backpack. "Hey, guys, did anybody bring his lunch today?"_

_Newkirk stared as a cloud of dust covered everything and everybody. It was extremely quiet after that. Seconds later, they were all at the conference table in their own tunnels. Kinch was once again sitting at the radio, Hogan was writing down something, LeBeau was serving coffee and Carter was playing cards._

_Newkirk turned to Carter. "And that's when the explosion 'appened, isn't it?"_

"_It took us all by surprise," the young sergeant said. _

"_Do we know who did this?"_

"_Not yet, Newkirk. But you don't have to worry about anything, other than getting better. Just come back to us. We need you here." LeBeau poured coffee in Newkirk's mug. "Here, have something else. You've been drinking too much water lately, n'est-ce pas?"_

"_I don't know 'ow to come back. I've forgotten the way back," Newkirk said. "I barely remember you, mates." He moaned. "Bloody 'ell!"_

"_Are you in pain?" Hogan asked, finally paying some attention to his corporal._

"_Me leg, it's on fire," he winced._

"_I told you it was broken," LeBeau said to Kinch._

"_It wasn't," Kinch insisted. "But now it definitely is." He shook his head._

"_Can't be... it wasn't..." Newkirk looked at his friends. "What should I do?"_

"_Don't panic," LeBeau said with a smile. "Just follow the yellow brick road..."_

"_Or clap the heels of your shoes together and say 'There is no place like home...'" Carter said._

"_Or, stop dreaming." Kinch put on his earphones and went back to the radio._

"_You must come back to us, Newkirk. Pay attention to what's going on around you." Hogan straightened up and crossed his arms. "Things are not what they seem….We all miss you here, and things haven't been the same since you've been gone. Please come back to us," Hogan said, letting a rare moment of genuine feeling shine through._

Newkirk opened his eyes. Although it was semi-dark, he could tell that he was back in the hospital room. He also knew that he was not alone.

"Hello, Corporal Newkirk." The voice was familiar but formal.

"Hamilton," Newkirk replied, keeping his voice somewhat impassive.

"How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?"

"What happened? How did I get here?" Newkirk failed in an attempt to sit up. He was simply too weak at the moment. "What are you doing to me? Why?"

Hamilton shook his head. "You were in pain. The medication is affecting your perception."

"Sod the medication! I know what your game is. You've been playing with me 'ead!" He struggled to keep his words coming out in a logical order. "I d-don't know h-'ow you did it... I s-saw me friends and the Stalag-"

"You were dreaming," Hamilton smiled.

"You were Carter!"

The doctor inwardly gasped but showed no outward reaction to Newkirk's exclamation. "It was a dream."

Newkirk shook his head. "Carter never finishes a bloody saying correctly... 'E 'as 'is own..." He turned to Hamilton, not wanting to give out any more information about his friend that could be possibly used against him.

The silence grew as the time passed. Hamilton avoided Newkirk's eyes while he prepared an injection. He inserted the needle into the IV and turned to leave.

""'E- You called me- Englander... I 'ad me suspicions, and that confirmed it. It was you all the time... " Newkirk shook his head, trying to block the effect of the sedative. "You won't break me... none of you..." His eyes closed involuntarily.

Lydia saw Hamilton at the door. She entered the room, checked the IV next to Newkirk's bed and came out. Her expression was serious but not as much as the young doctor's.

"He's sleeping now, although he's not resting." She rubbed her arms to warm herself up. "It's fine, everything is going according to plan."

"We didn't have to do that. This is not as we planned it." He looked at her and sighed. "He didn't tell me everything about this project, did he?"

Lydia smiled gently. "Doctor Frakes is a visionary man, Karl. Maybe he doesn't speak a lot about his ideas but he knows exactly what he's doing."

"We all agreed that this would be a painless treatment. He promised that there would be no pain." Hamilton found it difficult to keep his voice down at this point.

"It's under control. There was no other way. Besides, he was asleep during the procedure. His leg will be fine in a few weeks." She clapped his arm. "Come on, Doctor König, I'll invite you to a nice cup of coffee. We'll talk some more about this if you want to."

Hamilton sighed. He had almost forgotten his real last name. Sometimes, he even dreamed of being someone else in some other place but there. Loving his country was becoming more and more difficult all the time. He saw two orderlies entering Newkirk's room. "Frakes is going to see him now, isn't he?"

"That's part of the treatment." Lydia spoke calmly. She would not rush him into understanding this course of action. "He's not in any danger, if that's what you're so concerned about. Doctor Frakes is an expert in human behavior. He won't hurt our friend."

"I think it's a little late for that." Hamilton started walking. "I only hope that Frakes doesn't go too far."

"Oh, that's something we don't want to worry about."

HHH

Back in his hospital room, Newkirk dropped his head a couple of times before he woke up again. As it had happened before, he opened his eyes to complete darkness. Only a single frontal light pierced him to the center of his brain. He tried in vain to raise one hand to shadow his eyes, but found that this action was impossible. Slightly looking around himself, he noticed that he was tied up to his chair. He heard someone moaning, possibly himself, but he was too sleepy to care at the moment. His eyes closed.

"Newkirk," said a voice behind him.

He opened his eyes again to see the white light in front of him. He turned his head, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Corporal Newkirk!"

"Yes, sir!" He startled. The light had turned into a screen. Through the haze, he recognized Colonel Hogan. Newkirk blinked again. It was only a picture. "What the bloody-" He tried to formulate a whole sentence but he could not put all his words together.

"Where are you? You must come back!"

"Whe-?" Newkirk began to nod off again.

"Peter Newkirk!" The voice grew in intensity. "Seven! We have to be prepared for seven!"

"Seven..." he mumbled.

"Repeat the order!"

"Seven... at seven, we've got to..." Newkirk heard his own voice giving away something important. _Where's a 'eadache when I need it?_ No one was going to stop him. How long had he been there? How much had he spoken about so far that he knew he shouldn't have? What did they know about _seven...?_

"Speak up!"

Newkirk tried to shake his head, but it was too heavy. He gulped and took a deep breath. "Saint Ives..." He made a pause before continuing. "As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man..."

The voice lowered its tone. "Go ahead, don't stop now."

Newkirk could feel the person behind him grinning. He grinned too. "I met a man with seven wives... Each wife 'ad seven sacks..." He imagined the frustration in his interrogator's face. The effort was exhausting, but he could not stop now. The words came out fast and intently. "Each sack 'ad seven cats, each cat 'ad seven kits." He spoke fast, anticipating a harsh reaction to his little prank. "Kits, cats, sacks, wives. How many were going to St. Ives?"

A hand gripped his arm with so much strength that it made him wince in pain. There were no words or blows, only a needle being forcefully yet carefully inserted into the skin. A muffled voice whispered in Newkirk's ear.

"Does your leg hurt? He sent you first because he knew it was a trap." Two hands turned Newkirk's head towards the screen. "Look at him! You know too much... you know what he does... Say it, what does he do?"

"No... no." Newkirk tried to close his eyes but not a single muscle obeyed him this time. Only his thoughts were still his. He knew the answers to the voice's questions but he could not talk. He should not talk. A piercing headache clouded everything else. "Pain..."

The hands shook him. "Look at him! He is the one causing you that pain. He is the one making you suffer..." One long minute passed in silence. "Do you like pain? Do you?"

"No," Newkirk answered in his dreams.

"What do you want, Newkirk? What do you want now?" The voice was deeper in Newkirk's head. "Do you want the pain to go?"

"Yes..."

"Do you want it to go away?"

"Yes..."

"Now?"

"Now..." Newkirk shook his head.

"What do you want, Newkirk?"

He gasped, trying to stop the words from coming out. "M-make t-the pain g-go away..."

"Very well, then," the voice said without any emotion. "I'll tell you how."

HHH

The nurse drew back the curtains. Lightning lit up the room, which woke up Newkirk with a start. The nurse came closer to lay one hand on his shoulder. He stared at her.

She was dressed in uniform, with a small swastika wrapped around her arm. Although she did not look too friendly, Newkirk recognized her immediately. "Lydia?"

The nurse frowned and called a guard at the other side of the door. "Bringen Sie den Arzt. _Bring the doctor,_" she said. Then, she turned back to Newkirk. "It's all right. You're awake now."

"Awake? Why, yes, it's morning innit?" Newkirk tried to sit up but she did not allow him.

"You've been unconscious for three days after the surgery in your leg."

"What?" He chuckled. "You're pulling me-, well, doesn't matter. What are you doing in that uniform anyway? And the guard at the door and-" He felt dizzy all of a sudden. "Wasn't it over? The war? It ended..."

"You're exhausting yourself. I'm sorry but you just dreamed about the war. It isn't over yet."

"But Lydia-" He clenched her sleeve in an attempt to sit up. He was too weak.

"My name is Heide Sommer." She smiled for the first time.

Newkirk shook his head. He never forgot a face, or a name, or a beautiful woman's smile. This nurse was Lydia Winget. The same one that had told him the war was over. The same one that had brought him that telegram from his sister... Confusion began to overwhelm him. He turned to the window. The rain was heavy with lightning and thunder. He sighed. "Whatever 'appened with the blue skies and shining sun?"

[1] These tunnels give me goosebumps


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Friend or Foe?

LeBeau watched as Colonel Klink crossed the yard toward their barracks and panicked. He quickly jumped off the bench. "Colonel Klink at twelve et il est sur une trajectoire de collision!" [1] he yelled in a low voice.

The group came out and waited by the door. Something about Klink's body language worried and concerned them. The colonel looked happy.

"Bad news, must be definitely bad news." Carter sank his hands into his pockets.

"No one can be that happy with this weather," said Kinch.

"You don't think he has found more labor work for us to do, do you?" LeBeau blew in his hands to warm up the gloves.

Hogan did not say a word. The confrontation that he had held with his Kommandant during the previous day was still fresh in his memory. Newkirk's situation was the lowest blow these Germans had connected to his team. If his man was not coming back, he would seriously consider about taking drastic measures against some people. He knew he could do it; he was well connected.

"Colonel Hogan!" Klink laughed without minding the rain dripping from his cap. "I have the best news!"

"You know that there's only one news I want to hear right now," said Hogan.

"I've been making phone calls since yesterday afternoon. I must admit that our last conversation got me thinking and you were right when you said-"

"Colonel Klink, I know what I said. What is the good news?"

"Well, I talked to the hospital." Klink took a pause to smile widely. "Corporal Newkirk woke up last night. He's in wonderful condition and ready to come back to the Stalag."

Hogan relaxed a little and even smiled cautiously. "All right, when?" _The sooner the better!_ he thought to himself.

"They wanted to keep him in observation for a couple more days but," he trembled with anticipation, "I insisted that he must come to the Stalag as soon as possible. He's on his way. They're bringing him tonight."

Hogan heard his men laughing and celebrating behind him. He just nodded and smiled. "Good news indeed, Colonel. Thank you."

The rest of the day hardly anyone managed to talk about anything else except for Newkirk's coming back home. All their tasks concerned the Englishman and nothing else seemed to matter. Hogan kept an eye on his men while preparing their next mission. They could not talk without mentioning Newkirk every two words.

"What time is it?" Carter asked.

"Five minutes more than the last time you asked." LeBeau kept stirring something in a pot. "Why don't you make yourself useful and chop those carrots over there?"

Carter gathered the things reluctantly. "I suppose I'll switch bunks with Newkirk. I always do that when he's sick... Maybe I should change the sheets-"

"You did that one hour ago. I don't think a blanket can get dirty so soon." LeBeau laughed. "You're a nervous wreck. You should learn from me. I'm so used to crisis and emergencies-"

"Sure, are you going to stir that soup until the spoon melts?" Carter chuckled.

"It's bouillabaisse. It needs special attention," LeBeau replied in fake indignation.

"Fish soup? Newkirk hates fish soup," said Carter.

Before LeBeau could respond to that, Hogan and Kinch came up from the tunnels. The colonel made a sign and everybody followed him into his office.

"Enough, gentlemen. I know we're all anxious to see Newkirk again, [_myself included,_ he thought to himself_]_ but we need to get everything ready for Klondike." Hogan pulled down a map from his bunk bed. "Kinch, did you find the nests?"

"I talked with the underground. There are three still in construction here, here and here." He pointed at three places that were not so distant from the Stalag. "This one here," he put his index on another point, "is quite active. It will definitely give us some trouble."

Hogan turned to Carter. "Check the dimensions of the compound and prepare your explosives."

"Tonight?" Carter looked puzzled.

"We can't wait. Operation Klondike starts tonight." Hogan stared at his men and retracted the map. "Listen, guys. I know you're anxious to see Newkirk but the success of the Allies' operations depends on the efficiency of our work." He turned to LeBeau. "You have to meet our local contact at twenty-one hundred hours, and you, Carter, are going out right after roll call to see that building and take notes on what you need to blow it out." He grinned at their faces of frustration. "I won't even ask if you have any questions; just get prepared and let's get done with this." He was about to dismiss the meeting when a noise came from outside.

"Do you hear that?" Carter almost jumped from his chair.

Schultz came to the barracks and opened Hogan's door. "He's here!" he said with a smile.

Everybody ran outside but kept their distance behind Hogan. An ambulance entered the gates followed by a truck. Several guards came down.

"Who are they?" Kinch asked.

"Replacements," Schultz said. "Colonel, you may come with me. The rest, stay here... Please."

Carter, LeBeau and Kinch followed attentively the movement in front of the kommandatur. Although they were anxious to see their friend, their special training made them take notice about the irregularities that might be happening.

"Look at those guys," Carter said. "They're really old, aren't they?"

"Poor Hitler, he's recruiting the last of the crop." Kinch shook his head.

"That one over there seems rather young enough." LeBeau pointed at one of the new guards.

"He doesn't look too experienced, though." Kinch frowned.

"How do you know?" Carter asked.

"He has the same lost-boy look you had when you got here." Kinch turned to LeBeau and both laughed.

Hogan came closer. He was still wary about the overall situation. People and circumstances had been rather weird since the accident. But he would not dig deeper just yet. The only thing that really mattered to him was that Newkirk was back with them. Klink could not be happier when he saw Hogan. He finished signing some papers.

"See? I told you I will do it."

"No, you didn't, but thank you anyway." He looked at the man in white giving instructions to the guards in charge of the stretcher.

"Doctor Frakes, this is Colonel Hogan." Klink introduced them. "He's been in charge of your man. I was telling him how much we appreciate-"

Hogan was not interested. He looked over the doctor's shoulder at the stretcher. "He's unconscious."

"I gave him a mild sedative for the trip. He'll be as good as new by tomorrow morning." The doctor smiled. "Of course, except for his ankle. That will take a little longer to heal completely."

Hogan stared at him as though for the first time. "You're not German," he said pointedly.

"That's a long story, Colonel."

There was something peculiar in that man that could smile although his eyes remained emotionless. Hogan did not like him, or the looks of him, at all. _Frakes._ _I'm going to remember that name._ But for the moment, there was nothing more to say. Hogan went back to the barracks with Newkirk. As soon as the guards laid him down, the colonel virtually kicked Schultz and his men out and closed the door.

"Carter, the door. Olsen, bring Wilson. LeBeau-"

"Oui, oui, I know. The Haufbrau," he said, mumbling something in French that seemed like a curse. He put on his coat and went to the ladder. After taking one last glance to Newkirk, he was on his way.

"He looks too pale," Carter said worriedly from his post.

"He'll be fine. I just want to have a second opinion from someone that I can trust." Hogan spread another blanket on Newkirk and checked his forehead. He did look a little pale.

"No signs of torture," Kinch said.

"So far so good." Hogan looked at him and then, Carter. "Are you ready?"

Carter nodded. "Kinch gave me the coordinates. Do I have to go now?"

"The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll get back." Hogan smiled. "We'll take care of Newkirk. He won't go anywhere."

Carter smirked, though a little hesitantly. He knew that he wanted nothing more in the world than to stay with his friend at the moment. _Maybe someone else could do this job._ Still, he sighed to himself, knowing that was quite an impossibility. He went downstairs to change into his black outfit.

"Kinch, go with him and make sure he carries something to take notes with him." Hogan sat at the table and did what he hated the most. He waited.

HHH

"_East is west... seven... and west is east... seven, seven... left is right and right is left. Now you see it... now you don't... seven... seven... at seven... Klondike... No... no... As I went to Saint Ives... Saint Ives... I met a man..."_

Carter tossed and turned. He found that Newkirk's litany was rather disturbing. He wished for his friend to wake up soon. He had heard Wilson, Newkirk just needed to sleep. He would be all right in the morning... But the night seemed endless. He sat up.

"Carter?" LeBeau whispered from his bunk. "Can't you sleep? Me neither."

"It's okay," Carter sighed. "It'll get better now that we're all together again."

"I know." LeBeau sat on the edge of the bed. "What do you think has happened to him?"

"Nothing, I hope. It must be the medication." _But what if it isn't just the medication? What if something bad really _did _happen to him?_ Shaking his head, Carter tried to push those thoughts away. He knew that as long as Newkirk was back in their barracks, no harm could come to him. _He is finally safe._

Newkirk moaned. "Seven... seven wives... forty-nine sacks... three 'undred and forty-three cats..." He gasped and almost screamed. "Two thousand four 'undred and one kits!"

Carter jumped down and shook Newkirk. "Wake up. Come on, Newkirk!"

Newkirk heard him and opened his eyes very slowly. He saw LeBeau and Carter at his side and shook his head. "No... not again..." He turned his back on them, facing the wall. The wood looked old and worn, just like at the real Stalag 13. He touched it. "No, it's not true..."

"Newkirk?" LeBeau spoke to him softly. "Are you all right?"

"Go away..." Newkirk hid his face under the covers. His voice sounded tired. "You're not real."

Carter sat on the edge of the bed and laid one hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "It's all right, you're safe now."

By then, Newkirk was back to sleep. He seemed more relaxed now. Carter and LeBeau went to their beds too. But neither of them slept much the rest of the night, since they were still too concerned about their friend and the current condition that he was in.

HHH

"All right, people. What did you get last night?" Hogan sat at the desk in his office. "LeBeau?"

"The underground has something about a new drug that's being used in interrogations. They still don't know what its effects are, though."

"Is that it?" Hogan did not look happy. "London is sending their best secret agent to pick up that information. We should have something more substantial by then." He sighed. "Oh, well. Carter, how about you?"

"I saw the place. It's not too big, but I'm going to need supplies."

Hogan grimaced painfully. "That means a trip to the warehouse."

"Do you think Newkirk can do it?" Kinch asked.

Carter and LeBeau stared at each other. If this was any other time, they would be completely confident in their friend.

"Maybe we should wait. He's just got here," LeBeau said.

"Did he wake up yet?" Hogan asked.

"Sort of... not quite." Carter sighed. "He wasn't much in this world last night."

Hogan paced around for a moment before sitting back down again. "All right. We'll pick up Klondike and keep him in the tunnels for a couple of days. That will give us time to find out a little more about that new drug."

"Do you think he would mind? Spies are very busy people, aren't they?" Carter said.

"I suppose he's a reasonable man too. He would like to bring better information back to London than what we have so far." Hogan went to the door. "Now, everybody go outside and look busy."

Newkirk listened to the conference taking place in Hogan's office. He remembered something like that from the days he was at Stalag 13. The real Stalag 13. He smirked. At this point in the game, they could not be so naïve to think that he would fall for this. Maybe, he was overestimating their intelligence. _Whatever they want from me, they're not getting it. They won't find out a bloody thing about the Colonel and 'is operation. I won't allow myself to be tricked into thinking that this is the real Stalag 13 again!_

He got up and walked to the mirror. The cast on his leg was heavy and uncomfortable. _These guys have gone too far this time,_ he thought. He splashed some water on his face, which took away the last traces of any sedatives that he might still have inside his system. Newkirk was surprised by the paleness and circles around his eyes. Was he really that tired? He looked closer, just to make sure it was not makeup of some kind. He looked down at the sink. The faucets were loose and the pipe could go up and down. "How did they know?" Newkirk was alarmed. This could not be good at all. He dreaded the possibility of having had talked. He did not remember, but they might have broken him after all, in many a way. _I just 'ope that the Gov'nor and me mates are safe, and will be able to evacuate the camp if the Gestapo comes looking for them. They can do whatever they want with me now, but they better not 'urt me mates!_

"Newkirk!"

Hogan's voice gave him a start. He turned and leaned his back on the sink. Kinch, Carter and LeBeau were behind the colonel, smiling at him. Newkirk narrowed his eyes. This time, those blokes had put everything they had into this elaborate ruse. Colonel Hogan stepped forward. "It's so good to see you back. How do you feel?"

Newkirk glared. "Do you 'ave to ask?" He looked at the others defiantly. "I'm not buying this anymore. Whoever you are, you just 'ave to stop!" He leaped out of the barracks in the middle of several puzzled looks.

"What was that?" Carter asked first.

"I knew it! They did something to him!" LeBeau could not hide his anger,

"Maybe Wilson should check him over again," Kinch said.

"Easy, boys. Let's give him some time." Hogan calmed them down as much as he could. Their concerns were his too. He appreciated and valued his men as members of his own family; what happened to them would happen to him. But the worst part was that they knew too much. If they were tortured, there was no way to know how much it would take to reach their breaking point. _I can only hope that they didn't reach Newkirk's!_

They came out. Newkirk was in the middle of the yard, looking confused as he turned around. Carter did not hesitate on walking toward him.

"What's wrong, Newkirk. Are you all right?"

Newkirk smirked. "It's up to you to tell, innit?"

"What?"

"Blimey! 'Ow stupid do you think I am? I told you I know who you are." He pointed at the guards. "See? I know that I could walk to the gates and those little wankers are not going to shoot."

Carter frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Not a ruddy shot," Newkirk said, heading for the main gate. He had not walked more than a few feet when the sentries and the guards at the entrance aimed their guns on him. He did not seem to notice.

Schultz yelled at his men to stay put and placed himself in front of the Englishman. "For the love of-" he said. "Newkirk, what are you trying to do? Kill yourself?"

"Stay away, you bloody Goliath!" He pushed him with one finger. "I won't be intimidated by you anymore. Do your worst, I'm done with this ruddy place!"

Hogan came running to help. He was not sure who could need it the most, but Newkirk seemed to be digging deep into big trouble. He grabbed Newkirk's arm and smiled at Schultz. The sergeant was too puzzled to respond to any friendly approach.

"Colonel Hogan, what's wrong with Newkirk?"

"He just woke up. Maybe the doctors gave him something for the pain and he's having a bad reaction." He tightened his grip as he felt Newkirk struggling to get free.

"The 'ell you did! I'm not falling for this number anymore! I know what you're trying to do! I won't talk! Do you 'ear me?" He yelled at both Hogan and Schultz. "I won't say a bloody word!"

Hogan covered Newkirk's mouth and called Kinch for help.

"A word about what?" Schultz's concern reflected on his face. "Colonel Hogan, is there anything we can do?"

Even though he was unsure of what was currently occurring on the inside, Hogan nonetheless remained calm on the outside while he and Kinch wrestled with Newkirk. "Listen, Schultz. We'll take care of Newkirk. Please, don't make much of it. I mean, Klink doesn't have to know-"

"I didn't see anything." Schultz winked one eye. He could not stop being concerned, though. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"We will," said Hogan. The smile in his face vanished once all three of them were back at the barracks' door. He and Kinch dragged Newkirk inside and dropped him on the nearest bunk. "What's wrong with you, Newkirk?"

"Do I 'ave to tell you?" Newkirk sat on the edge and rubbed his leg. "Do I 'ave to tell you? First we're out then, we're back... out again. War is over, it isn't..." He shut his eyed and pressed one hand on his temple. "Seven is 'eaven..." He shook his head. "No... you won't make me talk..."

LeBeau came to his side. "Newkirk, who did this to you?"

Newkirk looked at Hogan and Carter. "They..." He moaned and crawled back on the bed. "Stay the bloody 'ell away from me, all of you!" For a brief moment, he thought about rushing and grabbing a gun from wherever he could find one. _They won't make me talk!_

"We want to help-" Carter stepped forward.

"I don't need your bloody 'elp!"

"Carter, leave him alone," Hogan said in a neutral voice. "We'll get to the bottom of this, and someone will answer our questions." He turned to Newkirk. "No more questions, all right? I think you'll be more comfortable in my office. No one will bother you there."

Newkirk stood up. He walked slowly, watching all their moves cautiously and carefully. Hogan entered his quarters after him. Newkirk did not protest, but he was ready to react at a moment's notice.

"I don't know 'ow you do it. This is the best trick I've ever seen," said Newkirk, sitting on the lower bunk. "Now what? More questions? More dreams?"

Hogan sat in a chair nearby and stared at him. Besides the broken ankle, there was no evidence that his man had suffered any physical distress. Newkirk looked tired, but all things considering, that was rather expected. Hogan leaned forward. "What did they do to you?"

"They? You talk as though you weren't one of them."

"I'm not. I'm Hogan. You know, your Colonel."

Newkirk smirked. "Clever... You really look like 'im. You even act and talk like 'im."

"Who do you think I am?"

Newkirk shook his head. "I won't answer any more questions."

Hogan got up. "I want Wilson to see you again. Do you mind?"

"Oh, the licensed surgeon?" he mocked. He leaned his back against the wall and shrugged.

"Surgeon?" Hogan frowned. "I don't understand."

"Well, Gov'nor, that makes two of us."

Hogan came out with more questions than answers. He looked around and noticed that his men were all staring at him. "I have no idea," he said, summarizing all the explanations they must be asking from him.

"He was tortured," LeBeau said. "You can see it."

"But they didn't touch him," Kinch shook his head. "Some kind of-"

"Brainwashing!" Carter sprung up from his bunk. "They did something to his brain."

"All right, guys. It's probably all of the above. But we need to think of more urgent matters."

"Such as?" Kinch asked for the rest of them.

"Did he talk? If he did, how much did he tell them?" Hogan came to the table and sat down. "And who is behind all of this?"

"That one is easy," Carter shrugged. "Gestapo, obviously."

"But what are we going to do? You don't think Newkirk would talk at all, do you?" LeBeau sat down. "He wouldn't."

"Don't fret, LeBeau, I don't think he did." Hogan smiled. "Carter, get the door. We need to talk and figure out what is going on here. Whoever is behind Newkirk's behavior must be getting ready to attack and we need to be prepared."

"What about Newkirk?" Carter asked.

Hogan sighed. "We'll protect him with our lives... but at the same time, I'm afraid we'll have to protect ourselves from him too."

_He really doesn't think I'm Hogan. He must still be thinking that he's wherever they took him, and that this is all a trap, or a trick. How can we convince him otherwise? But we're his friends, his mates as he would call us. Whatever is going on, we need to get to the bottom of this—before it's too late and Newkirk does something drastic that he'll end up regretting…_

[1] and he is on a collision course


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Putting Some Pieces Together

Hogan stared at the conference table where they had spread out several objects. Kinch, LeBeau and Carter were standing around, curiously watching their colonel's movements.

"All right," Hogan said. "Kinch, you're the duct tape, Carter is the screwdriver, Newkirk is the pliers and LeBeau is the box of thumb tacks"

Kinch and Carter could not help but laughing. LeBeau smirked. "Very funny," he said. "And what are you, sir?"

"Me," Hogan grinned proudly, "I'm the silver dollar coin."

"Typical," Kinch voiced the others' opinion.

"May I be the pliers? I don't feel like a screwdriver."

"Carter, it's just for illustrative reasons, okay?" Hogan straightened up so that the others could see the table. "This is the tunnel we were working in the day of the accident. I want you to place your tokens on the exact point you were at the moment of the explosion."

"I was here, Newkirk was next to me." Carter put the screwdriver and the pliers together. "I started heading to the exit and Newkirk was behind me."

"I came this way and turned for a second." Kinch put the duct tape on his place.

"LeBeau and I were very near the exit." Hogan frowned. "The explosives were here. Kinch and Newkirk were closer, then Carter." He leaned back to think about something.

"What is it, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"When we arrived at the hospital, who took your case, LeBeau?"

"A nurse," he smiled. "Lorelei."

"The blond one? Me too," Hogan grinned. "How about you, Carter?"

"A nurse too, six foot-three, the shoulders of a tank... Some guy named Fritz." Carter shrugged.

Hogan nodded as he knew he was getting somewhere. "Kinch?"

"Doctor... König," he shook his head. "I don't remember his face, though. I was still a little groggy."

"That was the one who talked to me about Newkirk's surgery." Hogan began to pace around. "It seems to me that we were separated by the extension of our injuries. Only Kinch and Newkirk merited a doctor."

"But Newkirk had only a sprained ankle and they took him in for surgery." Carter insisted. "He wasn't badly injured at all. He pulled me out of the tunnel."

"My nurse asked all sorts of questions. Where I was from... Age and... How long I had been in Stalag thirteen." Hogan looked at the others. "I thought she was coming onto me."

"Yeah, I felt the same way with my nurse," said Carter. "I was ready to run for the door."

"Too many personal questions," LeBeau agreed.

Hogan sat down again. "Newkirk has been a POW the longest..."

"They questioned us to corroborate that." Kinch nodded, understanding the situation all of a sudden. "They weren't quite concerned about our injuries; they were choosing the most likely candidate."

"Candidate for what?" LeBeau frowned.

"Brainwashing!" Carter slammed one hand on the table.

"But why Newkirk? For being the prisoner with more years in the Stalag?" LeBeau asked.

"He's the most likely to know what's been going on here from the beginning," Hogan said. "They took advantage of a mild injury to keep him in the hospital." He sighed suddenly. "They opened the doors for Carter and me that night. Getting in and out was too easy... They wanted us to see him before they began to work on him."

"That's not good, they who?" Kinch asked.

"Good question. Someone who thinks he knows something but he's not quite sure yet," Hogan shrugged.

"This whole situation is giving me goose bumps."

"Yeah, me too," Carter seconded Kinch.

"Moi aussi," LeBeau raised his hand with them.

Carter stared at Hogan, lost in thoughts. The colonel was thinking hard on the situation; maybe harder than in other occasions. Under normal circumstances, they would just move things around, crack some jokes on the goons that were trying to bust them and that would be it. But this time, there was one of them involved. A member of their team had been personally caught up in their nefarious plans. That was enough to put everybody's world upside down.

"Colonel," Carter said, "you said something about protecting ourselves from Newkirk."

Hogan gave him and the others a kind look. Since the day he started recruiting men for his operations, he knew this was the most special team he would ever work with. They were closer than family. They would give their lives for each other without hesitation. That was what made things more difficult. Whether he was wrong about Newkirk or not, the damage was already done. His clockwork team had been broken, and he would not be able to fix it until he knew exactly where Newkirk was in all this.

"Something happened to Newkirk these last couple of days. It's clear that he was interrogated somehow." Hogan looked at his office, where Newkirk was asleep. "I want to believe that he didn't talk, but until we're sure, we have to assume that our security has been compromised. If they got Newkirk it's because they had suspicions."

"Or worse," LeBeau said. "They could know about us already."

"Anyway, we have to watch him. Make him see that he's safe with us," Hogan said. _At the same time, if we've been compromised I may have to put our evacuation plan into action. I just hope it doesn't come to that!_ he thought, though unfortunately he knew that he couldn't dismiss the possibility.

"How? He doesn't trust us," Carter said.

"He acts as though we were the enemy." Kinch shook his head. "I don't want to imagine what they could have possibly done to him."

"I suppose the first step is to make him see that we're us for real. You can talk to him, get him back to our normal routine. But be cautious. Whoever is behind this, they can't be too far away. They didn't bring back Newkirk just because Klink made some phone calls."

"Wow, they could be watching us right now, they could find out about our tunnels and everything else!" Carter looked at Hogan.

"Don't be such an alarmist," LeBeau said. "There are no wires in here. How could they see us or hear us?"

Hogan did not laugh with LeBeau and Kinch. He was really concerned. "Through Newkirk's eyes and ears..."

"What are you saying, sir?" Kinch asked.

"I can't help having this feeling that Newkirk's not quite back with us yet." Hogan shook his head. "We won't leave him alone. Keep your eyes open about anything peculiar happening in the Stalag. Especially, we'll keep as quiet as possible about the current mission. As we are concerned, Newkirk is out of the team until I say so."

Kinch, LeBeau and Carter did not say anything, although their faces spoke for their frustration and concern.

HHH

"_Where is Corporal Newkirk?"_

Frakes kept the phone away from his ear. Major Hochstetter did not have any problem about making himself heard at the other side of the wire. There was no doubt that he was extremely mad at the moment.

"There's been too much noise about this experiment; officers began to ask the same question. I had to get the corporal back to Stalag thirteen."

"_You what? What officers are you talking about?"_

"First, Colonel Klink and later, General Burkhalter. He was very clear about finding the prisoner expeditiously." Frakes breathed deeply. "POW camps are preparing for Red Cross inspection in two weeks."

"_And you could not keep the prisoner for much longer? He saw me at the laboratory!"_

"He doesn't remember you, sir. I made sure of that." Frakes grinned. "Right now, he has more important things on his mind. We're right on schedule."

"_It's g__ood that you mention that word. There is a timetable to complete. If you can't come up with the answers, we'll discard your project altogether."_

"I'm doing what you asked me to do." He resented Hochstetter's ultimatum. He hated working with ultimatums. Science should not be rushed. "I'm working on the subject with all I've got. Results will come in soon."

"_You'd better be right on this one. Or heads will roll... Yours first!"_

"Do not fear, Major. You've been a great supporter, I won't let you down."

"_I'll make sure that this is so. Berlin's meeting is taking longer than expected. That doesn't mean that I won't be watching you, Frakes."_

The click was loud. Frankes shrugged. "Sure, I'm shaking in my knickers." He stood up and took a deep breath. Military! He thought. What did they know about making war with new drugs? They only cared for destruction. Scientists cared for creation, discovery... In just a few more hours, he would come up with more answers than Major Hochstetter would ever imagine.

HHH

"_One more time." The voice was like cold water in a winter morning. It hurt and took Newkirk's breath away. "Klondike comes at seven."_

"_S-seven?" Newkirk was surprised that he could still talk. He was so tired that he could barely move. He put all his energy to work and chuckled. "Morning or night? See?" He breathed as deeply as he could. "That's why military invented the 'undreds..."_

"_Where is the rendezvous point?"_

_Ruddy darkness... "One is one, two is two... three is three..." He closed his eyes. "Four is four..." _

"_Don't oppose resistance; it will only hurt you more." The voice came closer and then, farther. "Let's work on the names, who's Klondike?"_

_Newkirk giggled. "That's a good question... A Solitaire game... You 'ave seven cards..."_

_He felt a hand clapping his shoulder. Hard. The voice was in his ear now. "Cleverness is nice, but it doesn't take you anywhere. Answer the questions and you'll be heading home."_

"_Feet first, innit?"_

"_Who is Klondike?" There was no more volume, but the voice sounded stronger. "You don't know? Maybe something easier... Who is Papa Bear?"_

_Newkirk gulped. Where was the bloody light? It is too dark in here. He shuddered. He hoped his interrogator would not have noticed that. He calmed down before opening his mouth. "One in the afternoon is thirteen 'undred 'ours... two is fourteen 'undred... three is-" Another needle entered his arm. Pain crawled throughout his veins. He almost lost control of his thoughts. "Four is sixteen 'undred 'ours!" he screamed. _

"_Knave of hearts..." a female voice soothed him. Newkirk kept his eyes close, expecting more pain. "Knave of hearts." The voice was louder. "Knave of hearts, Knave of hearts. Knave of hearts!"_

_Newkirk opened his eyes to the yelling and a bright light penetrated sharply in his retinas. He shut his eyes again, but not for long. There was another picture of a familiar face in the screen. He had to struggle to avoid saying his name aloud. Hogan. He shuddered. He should not talk. He should keep quiet... Papa Bear is Hogan... Hogan is Papa Bear... Not a word... Pain... Pain... Shut your mouth... shut your bloody mouth... Pain will keep you quiet... _

"_The King of Hearts beat the Knave full sore..." the female voice whispered into Newkirk's ears. "The Knave vowed he'd steal no more..."_

"_Corporal Newkirk!" Hogan's voice resounded in Newkirk's ears. "You've let me and your friends down for the last time; such a disgrace to your uniform... "_

_Newkirk shook his head. Think on something else... songs... poems... What's that noise? A number... a number? Four-seven... can't hear it... six... was that a three or a two?_

_Three..._

_No..._

_Two..._

_Three or two... make up your bloody mind! Three-_

"Two!"

Newkirk sat up. He was awake... Was he? He could barely breathe. Dark. It was still dark. But it was not the same room. He had been dreaming. This was the Stalag... Which one? It did not matter anymore. "T'was just a dream...," he smiled.

"You don't sleep much lately, do you?" That voice froze his veins. He wondered if he should answer this time. His eyes got used to the dark. Someone was sitting at the desk. Hogan. "You don't have to talk, Newkirk. I know you were having a nightmare."

"'Ow long 'ave you been there?"

"Long enough." Hogan turned to him. His eyes were cold and somber. "Long enough to hear you betraying your friends!"

Newkirk crawled back. "I didn't. You're wrong... T-they tried but-"

"You let me down, Newkirk... You let down all your friends... Tell me, Newkirk, what does it feel like, being the traitor on this team?"

Newkirk covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes. "It's just a dream... It's just a dream!"

At the other side of the door, Carter was the first to jump off his bunk. LeBeau sat up and Kinch got up. Hogan opened his eyes but he did not move.

"Shouldn't we doing something?" Carter said to the darkness.

"I think that we'd better let him be," Hogan said, guessing that the young sergeant was heading for his office.

"But, he-"

"Newkirk needs room to figure things out."

"He needs his friends," LeBeau said.

"At this point, he doesn't see us as friends. We might hurt him more than help him. We might stress him out more than calm him down." Hogan sat up. "But we'll try to talk to him in the morning, all right?"

"All right," Carter said reluctantly. "But I don't know how we will ever know what happened if he doesn't talk to us about it."

"Don't despair. Give him some time, he's just got here." Hogan leaned his back against the wall. He could not go back to sleep.

Kinch did not say a word. He was used to listening to the colonel and obeying his commands. Hogan knew what he was talking about. Most of the time. If Newkirk needed their help, they would know sooner or later. With some luck he would open up before they could not do much in order to help him.

Hogan waited until Carter and LeBeau lied down again for him to do the same. He hoped that his assessment of the situation was the right one. Life at war was a gamble and he hated to play with his men's lives. Hopefully, things would look better in the morning. He would get some answers from Newkirk and the team would get ready to receive agent Klondike. _Then, things will go back to normal around here._

Newkirk awoke at the same time as the rest of the boys in Barracks two. He looked at them warily, trying to catch them in the lie. They were so good. They acted the same, the even joked the same. He could not spot any differences from the real Stalag... _his Stalag. _Could it be possible that he was actually back? He lined up for roll call, avoiding eye contact with everybody but one. Hogan was surprised to see what looked like an attempt to his corporal reaching out. He nodded to Newkirk's smirk.

Carter and Kinch stared from behind. Carter shook his head. "Boy, it's like living with a stranger," he whispered.

"Technically, we all are strangers here, Carter," Kinch shrugged. "We didn't know about each other before we got stuck in this camp."

A drizzle announced rain for the rest of the day. Klink came out of his office, followed by an aide with an umbrella. Heavy drops of water began to rattle on the ceilings of the barracks and the Kommandantur. The kommandant wanted to walk faster but he had to wait for the umbrella to catch up. If he stopped, the aide stopped right behind him. Klink was getting wet. Finally, he snatched the umbrella from his aide. He turned to the prisoners and stepped on a puddle accidentally.

"Schultz, report!" he yelled while shaking the water off his boots.

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. It seemed impossible that they would replace that man just to confuse him. Plus, here he was in the flesh, instead of hiding in his office. "Blimey! That's Colonel Klink, innit?" he whispered.

"Who were you expecting, Manfred von Richthofen?" [1] Hogan looked at him. The Englishman's expression had softened all of a sudden.

"I could kiss you, Colonel Hogan." Newkirk widely smiled.

"Not in front of the troops," Hogan said. He breathed with a sigh of relief. He turned to see Carter and Kinch. They were smiling as well as LeBeau, who tapped Newkirk's arm with affection.

The group was so happy to see their friend coming back at last, that they didn't notice one of the young replacements staring intently at them. There was no satisfaction in his malicious eyes. Instead, he seemed to be rather concerned. He wrote down some notes on a piece of paper and put it away quickly. That British corporal was regaining control of the situation too fast. _This isn't good news for Frakes- not good news at all._

[1] The Red Baron


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Eye for an Eye

Doctor Frakes came into his office and locked the door. He picked up his telephone speaker. He had been waiting for this particular call all day long. "König! It was about time. What happened?"

"_It's wearing off."_

"Side effects?"

"_None, apparently. The subject seems to be doing well."_

Frakes nodded. "Interesting." He sat at his desk and played with his pen. "How about his memory?"

"_From what I heard, he doesn't remember his stay at the hospital. But he's having nightmares about it."_

"I foresaw that. We'll correct the flaws immediately." The silence at the other side of the wire was eloquent enough. "You don't approve, Herr König?"

"_Do you think that's absolutely necessary? We already know what we needed to know-"_

"Shall I remind you that our sponsors want results too?" Frakes had to make an effort to keep his voice down. "We were hired to corroborate Major Hochstetter's suspicions. We still have to do that. Unless..." he made a small pause. "Unless you have already learned something. Have you, Herr König?"

More silence followed the question. Then, there was a long deep breath. _"No, sir. I haven't seen anything suspicious yet."_

"In that case, we'll do it our way." Frakes reached for a small notebook. "Our informant says that these men operate around the area. We're in a good position to see that first hand, don't you think?"

"_Listen, I don't know what you've planned, but I don't think we should-"_

"Well, I think _we _should! I'm not going to argue with you. I suppose you remember that I'm the only one between you and that glorious army of yours. One word on my part and you'll be wearing that nefarious guard uniform in the Russian front. Has anybody recognized you yet?"

"_I don't think they remember me. Maybe Colonel Hogan, but he hasn't seen me yet."_

"Good. Don't let him see you, then. Keep an eye on our subject and that's all. Don't make contact of any kind. Things will go as planned." He hung up. He rattled his pen on the desk while thinking of his next move. He dialed a number on the phone. "Are you ready?" he asked as soon as he heard a voice at the other side. He grinned. "Good, eight thirty, tonight."

HHH

"It was like a dream within a dream... within a dream..." Newkirk said, staring at his mug of tea. "And when I was finally awake... it turned out I was still asleep."

Hogan blinked and shook his head. He could barely follow the story that his corporal was telling him. "But you weren't sleeping all the time. You must've seen people, talked to someone."

Newkirk sighed and rubbed his temple. "That's the funny part of it. I'm not sure... For a while, I thought I 'ad been interrogated and yet..." He looked at Hogan. "The war isn't over. Carter never signed the cast on me leg and-" he frowned suddenly.

"And what, Newkirk?"

"I never received news from me sister." He lowered his eyes. "It actually felt good reading about 'er..."

Hogan clapped Newkirk's hand across the table to snap him out of the trance. "It's all right. There were moments when we thought you'd never come back."

"There were moments I thought I 'ad come back but I didn't."

Hogan smiled, although inside he was still wondering what had happened. He was convinced that the story was longer than this but he would not torment Newkirk with asking any more questions. His corporal was back; everything else could wait. He stared at him. Besides a slight tremble in his hands, Newkirk seemed to be doing fine. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Newkirk smiled, with just a tinge of relief showing. "I 'ad this pounding 'eadache... or I dreamed I'd got one... but it's gone now... now that I'm sure I'm actually back."

"Good..."

"You don't think it was a dream, do you?"

"Newkirk, in our line of work, nothing happens by chance, you know that." Hogan turned to the trapdoor. Kinch was coming up. "Are Carter and LeBeau here yet?"

"No. I was at the radio with one of our local contacts. They have more information concerning Klondike's mission." He produced a piece of paper and handed it to Hogan. "They will meet one of us at the Hofbrau tonight at twenty hundred and thirty hours."

Hogan looked at his watch and shook his head. "Klink expects me in twenty minutes for a game of chess." He turned to the trapdoor and sighed. "I hate last-minute changes."

"What is it?" Newkirk asked.

Hogan chuckled. "I've run out of men. I don't have anyone to send..." He looked at Kinch, but both shook their heads.

"I couldn't come up with an excuse for me to be there" Kinch shrugged.

"I'll go," Newkirk said.

"No, you can't," Hogan pointed at his injured leg.

"Sure I can," Newkirk insisted. "I'll just dress like an old man, cane and all, walking very slowly. Nobody will notice a thing."

Hogan shook his head. "You can't walk all the way to town; it'd take you ages to get there."

"We can take Klink's sidecar. It's in the motor pool, I saw it." Newkirk got up. "Kinch can drive me there, I'll get a drive back, 'ave done it before."

Hogan turned to Kinch, hoping for a good excuse to call things off. The sergeant shrugged. "We just cleaned it this morning."

"That's it, then," Newkirk smiled. He looked at Hogan and tilted his head. "C'mon, Gov'nor, for good ol' times' sake." He patted the colonel on the arm.

"All right. Kinch will drop you near town, and he'll pick you up at the same place thirty minutes later." He stared at both of them. "No detours, no welcome-back celebrations, no nothing. One minute late and I'll personally release the dogs on you two."

Newkirk laughed. He was just glad, feeling that he was finally home at last. Kinch stared at him while he descended down the ladder.

"_We just cleaned it up this morning?" _Hogan narrowed his eyes_. _"Thanks for nothing."

"I'm sorry, I was just carried away by his enthusiasm," Kinch apologized. "It's like he just came back alive."

Hogan had to smile too. He nodded. "Yeah, he looks like same old Newkirk, right? Let's hope that we don't have to regret this later."

HHH

Hogan let Klink set out the preparation of the table and the pieces for the game. With some luck, the Kommandant would play awfully as always, and the game would end within an hour. If not, he would personally play awfully and end the game within an hour, anyway.

"You must be in a better mood now that your man is finally back," Klink said.

"Certainly, your people took their time with him." Hogan stared at the pieces.

Klink pushed his chair forward and leaned his elbows on the table. "Well, you're welcome."

"Come again?"

"I know you're not going to thank me directly, so I'll spare you from the embarrassment." Klink smiled widely. "You're welcome, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan looked at him. The man had done all in his power, so to speak, to return Newkirk to them. He did not even know how much that meant for Hogan and his men. He deserved some recognition, although Hogan suspected that his participation had been staged from somewhere else. _It's as though he's a token in another game board._ Hogan chose his pawn and moved it forward. "I'm grateful, Colonel. Your good deed was quite unexpected."

Klink studied his pieces and moved his first pawn. "Just because we're enemies, doesn't mean that we can't be gentlemen." He shrugged modestly.

Hogan made another move. Something simple, the perfect play. Only a couple more of those, and even Klink would win the game. The Kommandant looked at the board, frowning and leaning back in his chair. Hogan looked at Schultz who rolled his eyes. Even the sergeant had figured out the next move. The colonel smirked. Maybe this game would take a little longer than he had reckoned.

HHH

Newkirk left Kinch waiting in the side car. He could feel the sergeant's concern as he leaped away. It would take some time for things to be going back completely normal. Even Newkirk still had his doubts. Maybe it was too soon... But he had the urge to shake the last few days off his mind. Although he would keep himself away from beer and other spirits, a change of air would be always welcomed.

He entered the bar and no one turned to see him. He grinned. The disguise of his old man impersonation was his masterpiece. He walked slowly toward an empty table, when something got his attention. He saw that a woman was sitting alone, and that she was playing Solitaire. He immediately recognized the Klondike rules.

"I still don't know what I'm doing wrong," the woman said when he got closer.

"Try to play with seven cards," Newkirk said absently. He frowned. That was not what he wanted to say. In fact, he was not supposed to engage in conversation with any stranger. He made an attempt to walk away.

The woman looked at him and smiled. "Why, Corporal Newkirk, aren't you going to sit with me?"

Newkirk held his breath. He looked around to make sure no one was watching. He sat in front of her. "I know you," he whispered. "'Ow do you know me name?"

"Take a closer look, Peter."

Newkirk blinked, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. "Lydia? Or Heide Sommer?"

"Lydia," she said. "Who's Heide Sommer?" she asked with genuine puzzlement.

"Never mind," Newkirk shrugged. "Just another dream, I suppose." He leaned forward. "What are you doing 'ere? 'Ow did you recognize me?"

"I came to meet someone. I was hoping that it would be you," she replied with a warm smile.

"Me? You're-?"

"Surprised?" She gave him an innocent look. "I took care of you in the 'ospital. I thought you 'ad inferred my role in all of this... You look like a clever man."

Newkirk felt sheepish. He still did not have a clue about what was going on. "But I was dreaming, wasn't I? What role? Aren't you a nurse?"

"So many questions," she giggled before hardening her expression. "We need to talk. It's really important. It's about your mission." She took one card and gave it to him.

"Knave of 'Earts?"

"Knave of Hearts," she repeated.

Lydia's voice was low and soothing but it pierced Newkirk's brain like a knife. He gasped. "W-what's this?" He struggled to keep focused on the card.

"Headache?" She pushed her glass toward him. "Drink some of this." She noticed his wary look and smiled. "It's only water. Alcohol makes me sleepy."

Newkirk drank without thinking. He looked at her again. "Why are you showing me this?" His words came out slowly all of a sudden. He began to feel his mind drifting away.

Lydia kept a deep look on him. She touched Newkirk's arm but he did not move. "The King of Hearts beat the Knave full score..."

"The Knave of 'Earts vowed 'e'd steal no more..." Newkirk completed the rhyme in an almost dream-like whisper.

Lydia leaned forward. "We found your father's murderer, Peter."

Newkirk shook his head, struggling to stay awake. "What? Me father's what?"

"His murderer." Lydia turned for just a brief moment to make sure they were not being watched, before turning back to Newkirk. "Your father worked hard for the underground. He went out one night to warn Klondike about an infiltration in our lines... The impostor killed one of us and took his place... He knew about your father and killed him before he could talk. Now the impostor is waiting for Klondike. You must stop him before he kills again." She reached into her purse for a picture. She made sure that Newkirk was still looking at her. She showed him the picture. "This one is the killer, Peter. He killed your father. You must stop him before he kills again."

Newkirk grabbed the picture. He tried to fight the dizziness and the fog clouding his mind. "No, you've got it wrong... This makes no sense...'E would never do that kind of act!..." Newkirk fought hard to try to make sense of what Lydia was telling him, but it was rapidly becoming of no avail.

"There's no doubt. I'm sorry, I wish it wasn't so, but this is the truth." Lydia's voice was still soothing, but it was now tinged with sadness. "You know this man. Say his name, Peter."

He shook his head. "L-Lydia..."

"His name, Peter. Who is this man?"

Newkirk could not hold control of his thoughts any longer. "C-Colonel Hogan..."

"What did he do?"

"'E k-killed my father..."

"Good, we're getting somewhere at last," Lydia smiled triumphantly. "What are you going to do about that?"

"I... I'm going to... kill 'im..."

HHH

LeBeau walked for a couple of minutes until he realized that he was alone. He turned and sighed. "Carter," he whispered. "Are you coming?"

"I'm right behind you," he said. "I can't walk any faster. I'm carrying Klondike, remember?"

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "You said we wouldn't talk about that anymore."

"Sorry, I'm just saying that it's hard walking with a-"

"Encore une fois. [1] It wasn't my fault that that thing was already on the ground and I stepped on it."

"No one is blaming that on you. Klondike is fine, see?" Carter opened his coat and showed him a handsome white pigeon peeping through. "I wonder how the magicians do it. Walking around with a pigeon in your clothes isn't easy."

"Who would've thought that our super secret agent was a pigeon?" LeBeau smiled. "Mon Dieu! This is going to be a joke for days to come."

"That will be good. We need some laughs after this last week" Carter replied while warmly petting the bird.

"At least, we won't have to bother about thinking of a way to get him out of here. He will fly home all by himself." LeBeau scratched the pigeon's head. "Qu'il est mignon, n'est-ce pas?" [2]

"So, we just push him out and he will fly all the way to England? It's a long way, isn't it?"

"Don't get too attached, Carter. You know what the colonel says about fraternizing with our contacts. Klondike will cross the Channel with the message. He's trained for that. If not," LeBeau said with a grin, "we still can have a nice pigeon à l'Orange."

Carter hugged the pigeon against his chest. "Shh! He can hear you." He caressed the pigeon. "Don't mind him, Klondike; he's just a bad joker."

"Anyway, I don't think Felix would get along very well with him," LeBeau pointed out.

"You're probably right about that," Carter replied, agreeing with his friend's statement.

HHH

Hogan entered the barracks, only to find that it was empty. He did not like that. He was late from his chess game and his men had not come back from their missions yet. Kinch met him right when Hogan came down the ladder. The sergeant did not look happy. Hogan sighed.

"What happened?"

"Actually, sir, I don't know." Kinch pointed at the radio room. "He hasn't talk to me since we came back."

Hogan turned to see Newkirk at the other side slowly taking the makeup off his face. "Did he make contact with the agent?"

"I think so. But when he came back, he was too quiet. I've tried to make him talk but he only answers with yes and no."

"Carter and LeBeau?"

"Nothing yet. They must be closer now."

Hogan sighed. For once, he would have liked to have a simple mission that went smoothly all the way through, without him having to worry about his men. _Too late for that at the moment_ he thought to himself_._ He entered the radio room and sat at the table right in front of Newkirk. The corporal was behind a hand mirror wiping off the last traces of his old man makeup.

"Everything went okay?" Hogan asked. "No difficulties?"

"Did you expect any?" Newkirk's voice was neutral but intentionally cold.

"Did you make contact? What did they want?"

"Nothing much," Newkirk said. He took his wig off and brushed his hair. "They were concerned about some things."

Hogan frowned. Suddenly, he was not just confused, he was getting angry. "What things, Newkirk?"

Newkirk glared at him. "You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"

"What?"

It was at that particular moment that Carter and LeBeau were just arriving back in the tunnels. Their voices were loud enough to interrupt anything else. Hogan was unable to ask any other questions.

"... and what do pigeons eat, anyway?" Carter asked.

"Colonel!" LeBeau ran toward him. "You won't believe what happened."

"Did you get to the rendezvous point on time? Where's Klondike?" Hogan stood up and looked around.

"He's right here-"Carter was about to show him the bird under his coat when Newkirk sprung off his chair.

"Going to kill 'im too, bloody bastard?" he asked angrily, his voice rising.

His outburst took everybody by surprise. Newkirk's sudden move made LeBeau step backwards and fall over Carter and Kinch.

"Mon Dieu! Klondike!" LeBeau rolled over thinking for the worst. "Did I-? Is it-?"

"What is it?" Kinch asked at the same time that Hogan turned to Newkirk.

"What's with you now?" the colonel asked. "Why are you acting like we're the enemy again?"

Carter sat up and patted his coat. "He's gone!"

"Who's gone?" Kinch asked again.

"Nobody moves!" LeBeau yelled.

"The bloody 'ell I won't!" Newkirk said, quickly jumping up to grab Hogan by the neck. "You know perfectly well why I'm acting this way. You're a dead man, _Colonel_!"

[1] One more time

[2] He's cute, isn't he?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Further Into Madness

Schultz heard yelling and screaming apparently coming from the center of the earth. If he were completely insane, he knew that he would give the alarm about a thunderstorm that was occurring underneath the barracks. Of course, he knew better. There were no tunnels, Hogan and his men were simply prisoners of war, and he was a very clever sergeant trying to survive this war the best way that he could. He turned around and saw one of the replacements sneaking near Barracks two.

Schultz came closer, wondering what this replacement was doing there. "Private! Did you lose anything here?" he asked in a genuinely helpful, though rather serious, tone.

Completely startled, König jumped to attention and saluted. "No, sir! I just was-"

"Don't call me sir! Do I look like an officer to you? Quick, what's your name, boy?"

"K-König, si- Sergeant!" He jumped again.

Schultz almost laughed at the poor man's nervousness. It felt so good playing the bad sergeant once in a while. However, everybody who knew him well knew that there was not an inch of badness in him. Soon, his features softened. "Tell me, König, have you heard anything around here?"

König held his breath. He had indeed heard the noise. But this was an undercover operation. Doctor Frakes would place his head on a silver platter if he revealed what he knew. "N-no, sir, I mean, Sergeant. Did you?"

"Nein, nein! The prisoners must be asleep." Schultz straightened up. All the while, he was thinking _I heard nothing, nothing!_ "Go back to your post and stop sneaking about."

König saluted and went away. He realized that he would have to wait for another opportunity to get closer to the barracks.

Schultz waited until he was alone. He wanted to knock at Hogan's door and find out what the problem was. But he did not, not yet at least. He turned and kept walking. His round would concentrate right in that area though, just in case.

HHH

"Stop it Newkirk, let him go!" Kinch was now on Newkirk's back, trying to force him to loosen his grip on Hogan's neck. "You're choking him!" Kinch wore an expression of complete surprise. In all the years that he had known his friend, he never saw him hurt any of his mates.

"You killed me father, you bloody bastard! You deserve to die!" Newkirk spat with absolute fury showing in both his voice and his face. He didn't feel Carter pulling him by his left leg or LeBeau biting him on one wrist. All he felt was anger towards this man, anger about the actions that he had done. Finally, his two friends succeeded in throwing him to the other side of the room.

Before he could get up and make a beeline for Hogan, Carter sat down on him. Meanwhile, Kinch ran to fetch a rope from the toolbox.

"Quick! I can't hold him much longer!" Carter yelped while enduring some punches from his friend, before rolling over on one side.

"Get off me, you nitwit!" Newkirk stood up as fast as his broken leg allowed him. By then, Hogan was already on his feet and LeBeau had a pistol in his hand. "What do you think you're doing? 'E's a traitor! 'E's not the colonel!"

"Newkirk, you've lost your mind," Carter said, all the while worry, more than fear, showing on his face.

Newkirk turned to face Carter with an incredulous expression. "You've got to ask? You've been playing with me mind for the last time! All of you!" He gave LeBeau no time to react. In one swift motion, Newkirk pulled Carter to his side in order to use him as a shield. "The gun, little man."

Hogan shrugged. "Do it, LeBeau." He signaled Kinch to make way for Newkirk to go out.

The Englishman aimed the gun at Carter's head and dragged him to the emergency exit. Carter did not offer any resistance to this action. He was not concerned at all that Newkirk would _really_ shoot him; there was only concern for his actions. "We're friends, Peter-" he tried to start in a comforting tone.

"I 'aven't got any friends!" Newkirk reached the ladder and pushed Carter away.

"Well, treating us like this certainly makes it a little hard, I guess." Carter saw him disappear through the hatch. He would have liked to grab Newkirk's arm and pin him down. _Maybe a heart-to-heart will do him some good._ Hogan quickly came over to stop him.

"Let him go, you don't want him to open fire on us," Hogan said. "The sentinels will catch him outside."

Carter looked at the ladder. "But, what if he shoots one of the guards?" _In his mental condition, he could do just about anything!_ Carter thought the words that he dared not to speak out loud.

Since Hogan hadn't thought of that, all he could do was sigh. Both men knew that if Newkirk opened fire first, there was an excellent chance that fire would be returned. "Details, details," he mumbled as he signaled for his men to follow him. "I'll go after him. Carter, go get Schultz. Make sure no one goes trigger happy on us."

"What about Klondike?" LeBeau asked, pointing at the tunnels.

"Who?" Hogan shook his head back-and-forth. "One crisis at a time, LeBeau. Okay?" He went outside through the emergency exit.

Newkirk ran without any clue regarding where to go or what to do. Should he find the Underground? Should he get back to England? None of those questions that he would normally and rationally think of entered his brain at the moment. The only thing that he noticed was that his leg hurt like hell, which slowed him down considerably. He ended up turning the wrong way and tumbled onto a guard. One glance was all it took for him to recognize the face.

"Hamilton!"

"Shh!" König didn't know what to do at first. "What are you doing here?" he asked. Suddenly, there was another question that had just entered into his mind. "Where are you coming from?"

Newkirk felt pain forming in the back of his head, and he immediately recognized it as the start of one of his fearsome headaches. He stepped back, horrified by what it symbolized. "It's you! You've been doing this to me!"

König moved forward, trying to present a friendly air about him. "Please, you've got to tell me. There are tunnels around here, isn't there? The sabotage, the escapes, the entire operation starts under this Stalag, doesn't it? Everything is true, right?"

The headache was so intense as to blur Newkirk's vision. "Bloody damn questions! Why don't you stop asking so many ruddy questions'!" He stumbled backward a couple of steps and dropped the pistol.

König picked it up and aimed at him, causing Newkirk's eyes to grow wide. "Don't move, please."

HHH

Outside the barracks, Carter had located Schultz walking nearby. Pulling on his sleeve, he exclaimed in an urgent matter, "Please, Schultzie, this is an emergency!"

"What kind of emergency?" the German sergeant asked while staring warily at him. "Did LeBeau run out of spices or you run out of explosives..." He stopped and shuddered. "I didn't say that."

"No, Schultz. It's Newkirk." Carter had to breathe deeply before continuing. "H-he... er... Well, he is outside and..."

"Outside where?"

Carter pointed towards the woods. "He's out of his mind... He thinks he's somewhere else and pointed at me with a pistol..."

Schultz grabbed Carter by the arms. "A what? Boy, calm down, you're talking nonsense. Where is Newkirk?" He didn't even want to know or think about where Newkirk could have found a gun.

"Out there," Carter said as he kept pointing at the trees. "He's just-" There was no need to finish his sentence, as Schultz was already blowing his whistle and running towards the gate. Carter ran after him. With all the commotion, he had forgotten about the _don't shoot Newkirk _part.

HHH

Hogan followed the path he assumed Newkirk had taken. It was a familiar one that they had often used on their missions. He soon heard voices and quickly sped up.

"I don't want to hurt you," König said while getting closer.

Newkirk crawled back in fear that was disguised as anger. "Don't get any closer to me!"

Hogan appeared at one side of the clearing. He saw the pistol in König's hand and stopped cold. "Newkirk, can you stand up?"

The Englishman did it slowly. He stared at Hogan and then, König and chuckled. "So, what're you planning, tearing me in 'alf? Because I'm not going with any one of you, _mates_" he said, spitting out the last word.

"Newkirk, you're not thinking straight." Hogan feared that his man would start talking about things no one else should know regarding their missions. He turned to König with his best poker face. "He's having a bad day. Surely, we can fix this without anyone else's intervention." _Or without anyone getting hurt…or worse._

"Oh, surely," Newkirk snorted. "Now, make me believe you don't know each other."

König felt Hogan's eyes on him and he lowered his head. Even though he was in a Luft Stalag instead of a doctor's uniform, he knew that Hogan seemed clever enough to recognize his face from the hospital.

"Really?" Hogan frowned. But before he could say what was on his mind, two German shepherds dragged Sergeant Schultz into the scene.

"Nobody moves!" he ordered. After a second of wrestling with the dogs, he managed to pass their leashes to another guard, who happened to be Langenscheidt. "What is going on here? Colonel Hogan, don't tell me that you finally decided to abandon this camp." He turned to Newkirk. "You rascal! How could you do this to me? At this hour, with this weather?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. He shook his head and clenched it in his hands. The situation was quickly escalating to nightmarish levels. Who was on his side? Who would stay with him? Had everybody gone crazy?

HHH

Colonel Klink woke up to the barking of dogs and the sound of the alarm. He waited in his quarters for a couple of minutes before dressing, and then he went to his office. Tired of waiting, he adventured outside into the darkness. The group was still gathered outside the fence.

"What is this?" he said, pointing his flashlight at each face that lay in front of him. "Colonel Hogan! Carter, Newkirk! Why are these prisoners outside the barracks? Why are they outside the Stalag?" He put the light on Langenscheidt, before turning it to Schultz. "Explain, Sergeant!"

"Kommandant Klink," Schultz saluted and smiled, albeit very nervously.

"Allow me, sir-" Hogan started his speech but he was soon interrupted.

"I don't need your explanations just yet, Hogan. Schultz, I need your report. Now!"

Schultz saluted again. "Komman-"

"Skip that part!" Klink barked.

"Approximately at ten hundred hours, Sergeant Carter, a prisoner, came to inform me that one of his fellow prisoners had escaped." He stammered, trying to prevent Newkirk's name from being mentioned.

"Escaped?" Klink stared at Carter. "Why did you report him? Are you switching sides now?"

"Me? No way!" Carter turned to Hogan who simply shrugged.

Schultz went on. "Kommandant. The escapee had a gun with him and the prisoner Carter feared that he might-"

"A gun?" Klink and Hogan asked at the same time; one of them was truly surprised, while the other man only feigned it.

Schultz stepped back. "I- I didn't see it!" He said and turned to König. "He must know; he got to the prisoner first."

König held his breath. Suddenly, he had been thirsted into the spotlight. _So much for keeping a low profile _he thought to himself. He turned to Hogan and Newkirk, then back to Klink.

"Well? Did he or didn't he have a gun?" Klink crossed his arms over his chest. "Speak up!"

"N-no sir, he didn't," König said, putting the pistol away before either Klink or Schultz could spot it.

Carter raised his eyebrows, while Hogan frowned. Newkirk was too furious to understand what had just happened.

"Maddening," he whispered. "'As everybody gone barmy now?" Suddenly, he felt that his legs would not support him for much longer. The adrenaline that he had been operating on was just about to give out. Carter was already next to him, ready to support his friend. He knew that he would have fallen, if it wasn't for his supposed mate to keep him from collapsing to the ground.

"It's okay, Peter. Don't worry," Carter said in a protective tone. "Just lean against me." For a brief moment, it appeared as though everything was right with the world.

"Corporal Newkirk?" Klink directed his light on him. "Aren't you happy with us anymore?"

"Colonel Klink," Hogan said. "Things are not going too well for Newkirk. He's-"

"Shut your bloody mouth up!" Newkirk yelled. Any comfort that he had received from Carter had vanished upon hearing his Colonel's first words. "You're driving me crazy!" He made an attempt to charge over and attack Hogan but Carter was successful in holding his weakened friend back.

All of the guards except for Langenscheidt aimed at them and Schultz had to step forward. "Halt!"

"There's no need to shoot," Klink said. "Colonel Hogan, what's going on with your men? You're losing your touch."

"As I told you, Newkirk is not himself today." Hogan kept a mostly quiet front, choosing his words very carefully. "I trust that you won't be too hard on him."

"Hard? I was thinking of three days in the cooler." Klink came closer, studying the corporal carefully for the first time that night. "Newkirk, you don't look well. Maybe you should take him with you, Colonel. If you promise to keep him quiet-"

"Me?" Hogan reacted on cue. "I don't think I could handle him, sir." He ignored Carter's surprised look. "Corporal Newkirk has been disrespectful and daring. He tried to escape, for Goodness' sake. You may handle a punishment better."

"You bloody traitor!" Newkirk struggled to free himself from Carter's grip, but it was to no avail. Schultz was ready to intervene in case the young sergeant could not hold him. "I should've killed you when I 'ad the chance!"

"All right, three days in the cooler. Maybe that will calm you down." Klink didn't need to hear any more to be convinced.

"Bloody enemies always stab you in the back." Newkirk narrowed his eyes, staring at both Hogan and Carter.

"And true friends stab you in the front," [1] Hogan told him while the guards took the Englishman away.

"Why is he so mad at you, Colonel Hogan?" Klink asked.

"I canceled the poetry contest." Hogan shrugged.

"You know how the British are very serious about their poetry," Carter chimed in. "Why, one time there was a poetry reading at the local library in Muncie, and…" However, one of Hogan's glares stopped the sergeant before he could go off on a tangent.

Klink nodded. "Schultz, take them back to the barracks." He walked ahead, leading the way.

Carter turned to go back in the direction of the tunnel entrance but Hogan pulled his arm to follow the German sergeant and corporal. He waited for König to join the party.

"New around here?" Hogan glanced at him.

"Yes, sir," König whispered and pulled up the collar of his coat. He wouldn't talk any more than that.

HHH

Back inside the Stalag, Hogan entered the barracks first. Carter came in later. Neither of them looked happy. LeBeau was already cooking dinner, but he stopped immediately once they were both inside. Turning to face his friends, it took him just one glance to see the sergeant's disappointment. Carter threw himself on his bunk and took a deep breath.

Hogan ignored him. He didn't want to engage in any dead-end arguments. He sat, elbows on the table, with his hands supporting his face.

"That rough, eh?" LeBeau moved from the stove to the table with a mug of coffee, and sat next to him. "What happened?"

"What happened?" Carter repeated, still lying down on his bunk. "Newkirk lost his marbles and the colonel-"

"There was nothing else I could do, Carter," Hogan said, making an effort to keep his voice under reasonable levels.

"Where is he now?" LeBeau insisted.

"In the cooler. We'll get him out." Carter shrugged.

"Not tonight. I want him to calm down before we talk again. Why do you think I put him there in the first place?" Hogan asked.

"But, Colonel," Carter sat up. "Newkirk is sick, he needs help now."

Kinch was coming up from the tunnels just in time to catch up with the conversation. He sat down on his bunk and listened.

"Maybe we could sneak Wilson into the cooler. See what he can do," LeBeau said.

"Yeah. We can't abandon Newkirk just like that. He's our friend." Carter sighed. "He wouldn't let us down like this."

"We're not letting him down." Hogan rubbed his neck. The exhaustion and bad news of the night were playing a full symphony headache inside his head. "He just needs some time off."

"Newkirk tried to kill Colonel Hogan," Kinch said. "And he put a gun against your head, Carter."

"Oh, he didn't mean it... He wouldn't shoot," Carter tried to smile. "He wouldn't, would he?"

The stares of the others answered with an unfortunate _yes_.

"Whatever they did is playing a huge number in Newkirk's mind…I told you guys he was brainwashed!" Carter shouted, jumping up from his bunk to sit down at the table.

"But he was doing so well. Just this morning, he was okay," LeBeau shook his head sadly. "What could've happened?"

"Newkirk said that the colonel is an impostor. What if we have been working with the wrong guy? What if someone came here while we were waiting for Klondike and substituted Colonel Hogan-?"

"I'm Hogan, Carter. The real one... I mean, the only one." Hogan straightened up as someone came to his mind. "What did you say about Klondike? Is he here already?"

"Well, not _he_ actually," LeBeau said.

"It's a _he, _LeBeau. Klondike is a male name," Carter shrugged.

Hogan stared at Carter and LeBeau. Kinch didn't say anything but his eyes were smiling. "You know what happened?" Hogan asked his second-in-command.

"LeBeau?" Kinch turned to the Frenchman.

"Guys, focus, please. This has been a crazy day. I need at least one answer for one of my questions. Where is Klondike?"

"I'm afraid he flew away, sir." LeBeau sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

"Just like that? Didn't he take any messages with him? Did you take him to the airstrip? Why didn't you tell him to wait?"

"No, Louie is saying that Klondike got scared with all the confusion." Carter shrugged. "LeBeau squeezed him when Newkirk pushed him toward me."

"Oh, are you going to blame that one on me too?" LeBeau stood up. "The cage was an accident. It was dark, I wasn't expecting a cage and-"

"LeBeau broke the cage when he stepped on it. It was just good luck that he didn't step on Klondike too-"

Hogan clenched his jaw and mentally counted to ten. "Gentlemen, where is Klondike? And what in the world does he have to do with a broken cage?"

"Sir," Kinch finally decided to put the colonel out of his misery. "Klondike came in a cage that was broken when they threw him from the airplane. See? Klondike is a courier pigeon."

"Oh," Hogan said, nodding absently. "Then, at least he won't tell London about our present crisis..." Suddenly, it hit him. He leaned forward. "A pigeon... and he's gone. Did he have a message for us?"

"No," LeBeau shrugged. "Well, I don't know. Carter?"

"Actually," Carter smiled shyly. "I didn't check for any."

Hogan rubbed his face with both hands. He began to pace as if the movement would help him to put his ideas in order. After a few minutes of walking around the table, he stopped. "You closed the emergency exit when you entered... It's closed at all times..." He turned to face his men at the table. "Gentlemen, that bird is still in the tunnels. I want you to get it as soon as you finish your dinner. Check everywhere, and leave no stone unturned. Pass the word, no one sleeps tonight until that bird appears, got it?"

There were no complaints or sighs. Carter and LeBeau ran to get reinforcements. Kinch would do the same, but first he had to have a conversation with Hogan. "What are you going to do with Newkirk? It's obvious that something happened tonight to trigger that odd behavior."

"You just said the key word: _trigger."_ Hogan's frown wrinkled with deep thought. "He met with someone tonight... in a meeting that was prepared by the Underground."

"They wouldn't set a trap for us, would they?"

"Not they... but someone in there maybe..." Hogan looked at Kinch. "Go to the radio, find out who asked for a meeting. Ask who knew about our whereabouts tonight. I strongly suspect that whoever set the meeting knew that Newkirk would be the only one available to attend, and that the rest of us would have been busy somewhere else..."

"Everybody in the Stalag knows that you play chess with Kommandant Klink once a week" Kinch shrugged.

"But Carter and LeBeau? We don't let many people know about our work." Hogan thought harder. "Only this time, we've been coordinating Klondike's arrival with the Underground to collect the secret information we need to send to London. Find out who's been working with us, how much they know about Klondike and who knew that Carter and LeBeau would go to get him tonight."

"That will narrow down our possibilities. I'll find the traitor in no time, sir." Kinch smiled and went to the radio.

HHH

Over in the cooler and unable to calm down, Newkirk began to pace around his cell. He was too agitated to put his thoughts into a straight, rational line. Hogan was not Hogan... or he was, but was a traitor... Traitor? Who was the traitor? They knew all they needed to know about him, about the Stalag... about their operations. Who were they anyway? Was Hogan working for the enemy? Had he switched sides while he was laid up in the hospital? Newkirk rubbed his temples. The headache had returned with a vengeance. He could not stop from shaking... It was cold... or was it just him?

"You blew it. All our work has gone to ashes and all because of you."

Newkirk turned to face the voice. "Colonel Hogan," he said. "Why do you keep saying that? You're the one who killed me father!"

"Where is your head, corporal? How long has it been since you saw your father for the last time?"

Newkirk clenched his jaw. "I saw 'im the day he went away for... for..." He frowned. Then, he groaned. "Bloody 'ell! Are you trying to confuse me? Me father was a patriot, 'e fought against... against... 'E... did..."

"You can't tell because it's not true! You want to believe that lie to change the fact that you're the only traitor here. You opened your mouth and now hundreds of innocents will die!"

"No!" Newkirk threw himself against Hogan but he found only the wall. "No, damn it, no!"

Schultz heard him yell and scream. This was odd in the Stalag. The cooler was a solitary place, but it wasn't so terrible as to make the prisoners scream, especially Newkirk. He was usually the calmer one; sometimes, he even sang old British pub songs in the cooler to pass the time. All of a sudden, the Englander had gone crackers.

[1] This is a quote from Oscar Wilde. It means that your true friends don't deceive you. They're honest and will put you right when you're wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Down, but Not Out

Hogan woke up, completely startled. It was still dark but he could have sworn that he had heard someone calling his name. After several seconds of silence, he had managed to convince himself that it had been a dream. He had just gone back to sleep when the voice came back along with a tap at the window shutter.

"Colonel Hogan."

This time, there was no doubt. It was Schultz, using his whispering voice. Hogan opened his window and yawned. "Did your wife kick you out again, Schultz?"

"Please, I am not in the mood for jokes. It's really late." He turned to make sure that no one was nearby. "I'm guarding Newkirk, remember?"

"I remember. Anything wrong?" Hogan changed his casual expression to one of greater concern. "Besides the expected, I mean."

"I don't know. He's a little noisy tonight. He's been talking to himself for hours." Schultz came closer and lowered his voice even more. "I thought that he had... you know... visitors. Er... Carter or LeBeau, sometimes they... you know what I'm talking about. Are they...?"

"They're here, Schultz. No one is anyplace where they're not supposed to be. If you know what I mean," he grinned at Schultz's discomfort. "Newkirk is probably having nightmares or something. He's been out of sorts lately."

"I know, but, well, I thought you would like to know that if you, by any chance would like to take a walk and... b-by any chance, you get to the cooler and... by any chance, you want to see him... I'd probably look the other way and see nothing." He smiled.

Hogan smiled back. This gentle giant was the best ally they could have asked for. "Thank you, Schultz, I'd be glad to take a walk to the cooler, by any chance." He winked and closed the window. He put on his uniform and went down to the tunnels. The bunks looked occupied, if nobody performed a thorough look, that is. Everybody was walking throughout the tunnels, carefully searching for their missing courier pigeon. Hogan could not complain about his men's commitment to the job. He met Kinch at the radio. "Get Wilson and tell him to meet me at entrance twelve. He's doing a house call tonight."

HHH

"So, I understand that Klondike is a code name for a secret agent and seven was the hour that he was expected." The imaginary Hogan paced around. It was supposed to be dark, but Newkirk had realized that when it came to his dreams and hallucinations, light was completely optional. "What I don't get is the number... forty-seven sixty-two? What's that?"

"It could be a three," Newkirk shrugged. He was calmer now. The world was still upside down, but for the time being, he managed to put himself together for the ride. After approximately ten minutes of trying to attack the Hogan that was present in his cell, Newkirk found that this action was completely pointless. _I'll get the ruddy bastard later_ he thought to himself. _There's no point in tiring myself out. So, if the _Colonel _wants to talk, I suppose we can talk._ "I was drugged and sleepy. I wasn't paying much attention to ruddy numbers."

"But you're so clever. You caught those numbers in the air. What do they mean?"

Newkirk chuckled. He lied down on his cot, staring at the ceiling. By now, he had memorized every spot, every crack on the ceiling so that he knew he could see it even in his dreams. Still, it was better than having to put up with Hogan at the moment. "If you're part of me bleeding imagination, you've got to know that I'm not answering questions for the moment." He rubbed his temples to appease a headache that was beginning to form.

"It wouldn't hurt that much if you answered some questions once in a while."

"That's what that ruddy doctor said. What's 'is name? Oh, yes. Doctor Frakes." Newkirk stared at his imaginary representation of Hogan and shook his head. "Didn't work for 'im, won't work for you."

"Why are you so suspicious all of a sudden? I'm part of your own conscience."

"Walls 'ave ears," Newkirk shrugged. "Besides, I don't trust meself anymore. This looks like the cooler, but I could be back in that lab for all I know. Those blokes are very clever; I've got to work faster than them." _I've got to _think _faster than them._ He stretched his legs and yawned.

"Does that include keeping yourself awake all night?"

Newkirk snorted. "Why, imaginary Gov'nor, you're starting to sound like the real Gov'nor." He turned to him. Someone else was standing next to Hogan. "And now you got yourself a friend?"

"Newkirk? It's me, Hogan," he threw a light on the cot. "Are you all right?"

Before Newkirk could think about what to do, let alone sitting up, Wilson was already on the edge of his bed, checking his pulse. "What the-?"

"Lie still, Corporal. We're just making sure that everything is okay." Wilson lit Newkirk's pupils.

"Watch it?" Newkirk blinked and pushed the flashlight away. He turned to Hogan. "Some hallucination you are. What's the idea?"

"Newkirk, it's been a very intense week," Hogan said. "We want to help you. Wilson?"

"His pupils are a little dilated but responsive." He turned to Newkirk. "I bet you have a monster headache. Lack of sleep and-"

"Did I ask for a ruddy statement of the obvious? I think not." Newkirk sat up. "Listen you two. I'm all right. Nothing's 'appening with me. You can go back to your cozy beds and leave me alone." _Before I change me bloody mind and try to kill _both _of you._

"As I was saying," Wilson grinned. "Lack of sleep is making him cranky."

_Oh, you don't know the 'alf of it_ Newkirk thought to himself.

"Can you do something for him?" Hogan asked, genuine concern visible in both his voice and his face.

"'_E_ is all right. _'E_ is going to sleep. Go away!" Newkirk pulled the blanket up to his head and lied down again.

Hogan took Wilson's place on the cot. "Newkirk, this is serious-"

"Do you 'ear me laughing?" Newkirk spoke, slightly muffled from under the blanket.

"We need to know what happened to you. Your behavior has been too peculiar and-"

"Peculiar?" He uncovered his face for a moment. "With all due respect, Gov'nor, if you 'ad been through all I've been through, you'd wouldn't use that word, I'd say."

"But tell me, what have you been through? We can't begin to help you unless we know what they did to you."

However, an abrupt giggle made Newkirk and Hogan turn to face Wilson. "I'm sorry," the medic smiled. "All those _through_ makes it sound like a tongue twister."

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Wilson, please." He turned to Newkirk. "We're suspecting a double agent may have infiltrated our lines. Kinch is investigating."

Newkirk smirked in disbelief. "That's the barmiest story I've ever 'eard." He paused before going on. "Well, at least it fits perfectly with others I've been told lately."

"Like Colonel Hogan's killing your father?" Wilson asked.

Newkirk frowned. "The colonel killing me who?" Suddenly, he noticed that his headache was growing in intensity, though the last thing he wanted was for either Hogan or Wilson to notice. _Blimey! I remember being angry at the Colonel, but now I can't even remember why. Am I losing me memory as well?_

Hogan and Wilson exchanged worried stares. Wilson shrugged. "Another piece of the puzzle."

"I'd wish all the pieces would belong to the same puzzle." Hogan sighed. "Newkirk, I know you're confused. We _all_ are. I don't want to add any more to it but things are going crazy around here, so to speak. I have all the team members in the tunnels looking for a bird. Even Olsen and Baker are helping. Hopefully, they will find it soon and I'm going to need your abilities with the locks of the Stalag warehouse."

"Carter ran out of supplies, didn't 'e?" Newkirk smiled. "And when you say a bird, you're not talking about a lady, are you?"

"I wish," Hogan chuckled. "Klondike turned out to be a pigeon, a courier pigeon. It got scared with our little situation in the tunnels."

Newkirk stared at him and Wilson and shrugged. "I take that this 'little situation' 'ad to do with me ending up in the cooler."

"Selective amnesia," Wilson said. "Sometimes, when the mind has been put through too much stress, it will put up barriers to block out unpleasant, traumatic memories. I should start writing down the symptoms. Whatever drug they used on you must be kind of new."

"You should talk to your twin brother. 'E's a surgeon, you know?"

Hogan stared at Newkirk with concern. The corporal looked fine but most of what he said didn't make any sense. "Maybe you should go back to sleep. Forget about the warehouse. We'll find another way." He smiled, almost condescendingly. "I'll come back tomorrow." He signaled for Wilson to follow him back to the door trap. "Provided he remembers I didn't kill anyone of his family," he whispered.

Newkirk saw them disappearing through the wall and shook his head.

"Now, he doesn't trust you either."

"Can't you tell me something I don't know?" Newkirk sighed. "Of course you can't. You're just stuck in me 'ead along with everything else." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "There must be a way I can take me life back." _Where's the Stalag? Where's the Colonel and me mates? Blimey, down is up and near is far….But I can't allow those bloody bastards to see even one moment of weakness in me. If I show that, then they win. If only—_

"How would you do it sitting in this place?" the imaginary Hogan asked, cutting Newkirk off from his thoughts.

"Imaginary Gov'nor, you've got to start 'aving faith in me." Newkirk raised an eyebrow, while an idea began to form in his head. "Same goes for the real Gov'nor, I guess."

HHH

Hogan could read his men's faces so well. They were not happy, and he certainly couldn't blame them. Of course, he wasn't happy either. So many distractions were undermining their confidence. Worst than that, they had lost almost one entire day looking for a pigeon. Their latest mission threatened to be their last for good.

"Even if we found Klondike, we still don't have the information that London is asking for. And if we got the message, we can't protect Klondike's flight back home," Carter said. "This is going down the drain."

"We all should know how to break into the warehouse. We can't depend on Newkirk so much." LeBeau led the way into another branch of the tunnel. He threw a light around but there was nothing to see. "Maybe if we put out some food, Klondike will come out to eat."

"Yeah, he just came all that way from London and hasn't eaten anything. He must be starving."

"I'll look in our pantry and see if we have anything that's good for a pigeon." LeBeau turned to leave when they heard a noise. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

Carter frowned. "Sounded like flapping. Bats?"

"Maybe," LeBeau walked slowly toward the noise. "Or..." He jumped forward and wrestled a little in the corner. When he got up, he was cradling the pigeon in his arms. "Voici lui!" [1]

"Klondike, boy!" Carter stroked the bird, who responded with a soft cooing. "We were so worried about you. Oh, Colonel Hogan is going to be so happy!"

"At last, we're getting somewhere."

LeBeau and Carter headed back upstairs.

The team, minus Newkirk, met at Hogan's office. Kinch took the pigeon from Carter and removed a little capsule that was attached to one of its legs. Hogan read the message.

"London requires information about the development of a new drug used for interrogations. They want the exact location of the laboratory where it has been processed so they can destroy it immediately."

"But how are we going to do that?" Carter asked. "Do we have any hint on where it might be?"

"We make contact with the Underground, right?"

"Wrong, LeBeau. There may be a mole in the Underground, and at the moment, we can't afford to take any chances. They're still investigating," Kinch said.

"True, and while we're still responsible for this mission, the information must be checked two or three times." Hogan stared at the pigeon. "I think we'll have a guest for a while. Carter, I volunteer you to guard our friend, okay? No more hide and seek in the tunnels."

"I'll make him a nice cage. I've made one for Felix, so making one for Klondike should be a slice of cake." Carter was too busy smiling at the pigeon to notice that there was a distinctive British voice missing to correct his phrase mistake.

HHH

"I don't think there is much more that we're able to do here, Doctor Frakes. Corporal Newkirk is in the cooler and besides, he doesn't remember anything from the laboratory."

"_Are you sure? We can't afford to take risks."_

König took a deep breath. Even though he dreaded the answer to his next question, he knew that it had to be asked. "What do you suggest?"

"_What do you think? _the voice on the other side of the phone asked angrily. _The experiment is over. We have to dispose of our subject."_ The temporary silence was not a good sign. Doctor Frakes could not accept any last minute hesitation. _"Listen, König. You'll do as I say. Corporal Newkirk is a liability; we can't take risks! If you are not strong enough to carry out my orders, tell me and I'll find a way to dispose of you too!"_

"There's no need, sir." König shook his head. "I'll do my best. You won't be disappointed."

_I better not be, König—for your sake."_

König hung up. He stepped out of the Kasserne [2] and looked around. He made sure that the other guards were not looking at him, since telephone calls were a privilege that they seldom had. Luckily, his frequent visits had passed unnoticed. If things went as planned, he would not have to worry about continuing to make phone calls from Stalag 13.

It was then that König intercepted Corporal Langenscheidt, who was carrying a tray with dinner for the staff and the prisoner in the cooler. "Just in time, I see," he said with a friendly smile.

"Yes. Sergeant Schultz doesn't forgive delays in his dinner." He smirked, knowing as well as anybody how much the sergeant enjoyed eating. "My round should've ended half an hour ago."

"I'll take it from here, all right?" König grabbed the tray. "I'm going that way, anyway."

Corporal Langenscheidt did not see anything suspicious about that. Instead, he was rather grateful to see himself freed from any responsibility. "Danke."

Schultz had his eyes on the tray the moment König entered the room. He took his plate and smelled deeply. "Wunderbar!"

"May I take this to the prisoner now?"

"Certainly," Schultz said without really looking at him.

König peeped through the window on the door. His heartbeat accelerated. Without hesitation, he quickly opened the door. He was speechless. "Damn!"

There was a lump on the cot, made up to simulate a sleeping person. While it might have fooled Schultz, König was able to see through it. He had been thinking that Newkirk might try to pull something like this. He removed the blanket to see the pillow and the cast of Newkirk's leg put together. "Clever," König sighed. He turned around.

The cell was empty.

HHH

Newkirk walked quietly through the tunnels. His broken heel was killing him but there was no time to waste. He hid in the shadows when he heard footsteps and voices. His present plans did not include meeting anybody, friend or foe. He just needed a uniform, a couple of minutes in the office and he would be off to work.

"I only need a couple more boards and the cage will be ready," said Carter, examining the debris piled up in a corner of the tunnel.

"When is the takeoff, then," Olsen asked him. "Do you have the stuff to sabotage the nest?"

"Nest? Oh, the antiaircraft post?" Carter chuckled. "With all that commotion about the pigeon, I get confused. No, I'm still short of wire and tape. If we can't open the Stalag warehouse, I suppose I'll have to make an extra trip downtown."

While they were conversing, Olsen had found another piece of nice board, and he handed it to Carter.

"Okay, I think it will work." Carter picked it up and both men went back to the barracks.

Newkirk made a mental note about the new point in his agenda. "All right, a little detour and I'll be on my way."

"The Underground informs that the leak has been located and neutralized. His name was Ritz. He had basic information about Klondike's ETA, our routines and whereabouts. He might have contacted Hochstetter." Kinch handed a piece of paper with the message on it to Hogan.

"Do you think the Gestapo knows about our operations now?" Carter interrupted his job with the cage to look at Hogan, a worried expression showing on his face.

"I don't think so. We're still here." He read the paper. "Although, they would have enough information to be able to pull Newkirk further into their scheme."

"I don't think he would betray us. Not even in his darkest hour!" LeBeau replied with steadfast resolution, all-the-while petting the pigeon while feeing it a handful of seeds.

"I don't doubt Newkirk's endurance. He wouldn't be on this team if he was easy to break," Hogan replied. For a brief moment, a smile lit his face. He remembered how he had decided to take the mischievous Englander under his wing and make him part of his team. It was exactly because of the reason that he had grown up on the mean streets of Stepney that Hogan knew his man had a tough exterior. "They hurt him real bad, though." Hogan continued while sighing, forcing his thoughts to return to the mission at hand. "But now, it's our turn to act. We need to get Klondike out of here as soon as possible. Carter-"

"I know, I know. I'm still working on it."

"Make a list of what you need. LeBeau or Olsen will go to town tomorrow."

"We still don't know much about the new drug or the laboratory coordinates. What information are we going to send them with the pigeon?"

"Kinch, you may stop asking those questions. They take my sleep away." Hogan stared at Klondike. "We'll send them our regards and best wishes, and whatever we have so far, okay? We can also tell them to standby for more information later on." He stretched. "Now, you may all go to bed. It's been a very long night, and I suspect that it'll be a long day tomorrow."

HHH

Newkirk went throughout the warehouse supplies. It would have been so easy to serve himself from everything they had. For a brief minute or two, he even thought about getting the necessary supplies to get back to England. But, he was pressed for time; there were other places to be and other things to do.

He took some wire and tape, new pliers and other small things that Carter was always using. That warehouse was paradise. They had everything they needed for any mission that they might come up against. They only had to make sure that the remaining items would cover up for the missing ones. Klink's accountant was too lazy to go deep into the exact quantities of each product. He would usually sign reports without verification that Helga would file without double checking. At the end of the year, they would allow poor Klink to go through a mountain of requisition forms to explain their expenses. If anyone had ever noticed any anomaly, they had probably shut their mouths to avoid endless bureaucratic procedures.

The next step involved getting to the office. There was only one guard outside who wouldn't bother questioning Newkirk about his coming in.

Once inside, Newkirk quickly headed to the phone. "Operator," Newkirk whispered. "I need the name of a local company around the Hammelburg area. The number is forty-seven sixty-two."

HHH

Once again, Hogan woke up startled. It was morning already, but still a bit too early for roll call. He heard a tapping at his window and he could almost guess who it was.

"Schultz, couldn't you wait till roll call? I need to sleep and you're making it very difficult lately."

"I'm sorry, Colonel." The sergeant shook his head. "I couldn't wait, really."

"All right, what's going on now?"

"It's Newkirk."

"Again?" He frowned. "What did he do?"

"He's gone."

"C'mon, Schultz, that's your big emergency?" Hogan snorted. He was about to turn back to his bed when the meaning of the words landed with full force. "He what?" Hogan exclaimed, though trying to keep the other men in the barracks from hearing him.

"It happened last night. It's all I know. I was there all the time. I don't know how he did it."

Hogan knew how; he needed to know _why_. "Go back to your post, Schultz. Klink won't miss him for roll call because he's still in the cooler."

"But he's not th-"

"Schultz, this is between you and me. For all we know, and most importantly for all Klink knows, Newkirk is still in the cooler, okay?"

Schultz heard the voice of command in Hogan and obeyed. Who cared? After all they had been through, another lie fit just perfectly into their landscape.

Hogan closed his window. Before calling his men to arms, he had to take a couple of deep breaths. He was mad. With so many forces conspiring against them by air and land, Newkirk had to choose that day out of all the others to pull one of his pranks.

[1] "Here he is!"

[2/AN] The Kasserne is the German soldiers' barracks in the Stalag. This would be the place where they would go when they're off duty. This would also be the place where they would be able to make phone calls.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: And Two Plus Two Makes…

As soon as roll call was over, Carter went to check in on Klondike. They had put the cage in one of the room of the tunnels just in case the bird would like to fly away again. Plus, in case he made any noise during the night, the guards wouldn't be able to hear it all the way down there.

"Slept well, buddy?" Carter greeted the pigeon while cleaning the cage and putting more seeds and other food on the plate. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. Colonel Hogan wants a list of the things I need. You don't want to take off tonight just to be shot down by one of those machine guns outside, do you?" He went to his work table to look for a piece of paper. However, he could not believe the mess that greeted him. "Oh, my. Where did all these things come from?" He pushed several rolls of wire away before finding a note attached to them. Carter had to take a seat as he read.

_Hey, mate. Here are some things I heard you mention that you needed yesterday. I hope it's enough to complete your toys. Make good use of them.—Newkirk_

Having read the short letter, Carter couldn't help but let a broad smile show on his face. _Maybe he doesn't think I'm the enemy anymore? After all, he wouldn't have gotten these items for just anybody._

Just then, Carter noticed that Hogan was walking through the tunnels. The sergeant showed his commanding officer the letter, who received both it and the material without much of a surprise. _Leave it to Newkirk's ten golden fingers to get the job done._ He was concerned, though. Newkirk must have left the cooler the night before. "And in that case, where is he now?"

"Should we look for him in the tunnels? It worked for Klondike," LeBeau said.

"I don't think he's in the Stalag anymore." Hogan shook his head in a negative fashion. "I should've done something when I saw him last night."

"Like what? He was in the cooler. You trusted him to stay there." LeBeau stared at the note and the things on the table. "Pour mon ami, who knows where or what he's up to now."

"What about his leg? He couldn't have gotten far with a broken ankle." Carter examined the supplies. "At least, he knew what to get."

A disturbing thought suddenly assaulted LeBeau's mind. "What if he's armed?"

"They don't keep weapons in the warehouse," Hogan said in an outwardly casual way. Though, the thought that he could have grabbed a gun from where they stored their weapons didn't escape him.

As though reading his colonel's mind, Kinch appeared with some more bad news. "One German uniform is missing... and a pistol."

"Damn it!" Hogan said. He rubbed his hair with one hand before placing his crush cap back on his head. "We'll finish with our mission with Klondike first and then, we'll have all the time we need to take care of Newkirk." He went to the door. "I'll see how the weather is; for now, stay put. Carter, you can start writing a note to London. Make it optimistic; tell them that we're still working on the mission."

HHH

Newkirk rolled down from the laundry truck to a darkened corner at the entrance of Hammelburg once it had come to a stop. He stretched and relaxed his muscles, while watching the truck drive off again. Two hours touring the area in a sack of dirty laundry was enough to put anyone in a bad mood.

He began to walk very slowly, keeping his limp to a minimum in order to avoid attracting attention to himself. He checked that the pistol was in his pocket. He knew that it might take him several hours to get where he was heading to. Though in the end, it would definitely be worth it.

HHH

Hogan looked around for clues of where his British corporal could have gone off to. He saw Schultz suspiciously doing the same, all-the-while moving closer to the colonel. The sergeant bent forward to look under the dog houses without noticing Hogan.

"Newkirk," he whispered. "Please, tell me you're there."

"Did you lose anything, Schultz?"

The sergeant jumped. "Colonel Hogan, shh!"

"It's okay, Schultz, I know he's gone."

"Do you know?" Schultz asked while he looked around. During the heat of the search, he had forgotten that he had told Hogan about Newkirk's disappearance. "Is anyone else... you know... missing?" His voice was barely audible.

"Nope, he flew solo this time," Hogan sighed. "I was wondering, why didn't you set the alarm off? This counts as an escape, doesn't it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I was hoping that Newkirk would be cleverer than this. It wasn't a good move; he just came back from the hospital."

"I appreciate the deference." Hogan caught the glance of a German corporal and frowned. "I'll tell you what. Give me twenty-four hours, and I promise you that Newkirk will come back by then."

"Are you sure? How do you know?" Schultz covered his mouth as he realized what he had just asked. "Don't answer that. _Please_, Colonel Hogan, just make sure that the Englander is back and I'll be your slave for the rest of the war."

"Being there done that," Hogan whispered, knowing that the sergeant could not hear him as he walked away. Hogan looked at the corporal at the other side of camp. He was walking as fast as he could without running. "Hey!" he said when he got close enough to avoid yelling at him. "We've got to talk."

"Colonel, I'm sorry, we're not allowed-" König tried to hide his face but it was too late.

"I've seen you before. You're not a guard, are you?" Hogan grabbed him roughly by a sleeve. "At the hospital, you were there the day of the accident. You're a doctor!"

"König... My name is König," he replied, knowing now that the game might actually be up.

Hogan exhaled with relief. "Finally, a piece from the same puzzle."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Hogan quickly replied. "What's going on here? I want some good answers" he asked and ordered with a completely stern air.

"You're in no position-"

"Don't give me that. You came here with a purpose and you've been busted. You're talking to me, or I'll talk to Klink about you. It might not mean anything to you, but I can make it _very_ uncomfortable before it gets better."

König almost smiled. He had heard about the man, but nothing compared to meeting him face-to-face. "You're him, aren't you? You're Papa Bear."

HHH

Newkirk hid in the shadows until sunset. He watched the main door of the fortress, trying to remember anything that he could about that place. He knew he had been there, but there was no trace of it in his memory. That made him furious. Whatever these people had been doing with him had left him bewildered and confused. He hated not knowing who his mates were, and who his enemies were. But it was time for him to regain control of his life and put them against the wall for a change. _It's time to try to get back some of me…sanity_. He hated to think that last word, but he knew that he had to be completely honest with himself if he wanted to get better.

He sneaked into the building easily, as it should be. No one was expecting him, anyway. The first two doors were closed, and the only guard that he could see looked tired. Newkirk deduced that his replacement would come any minute now. He passed that office fast and managed to make his way downstairs.

The ground floor was dark and cold. However, there was something familiar in the air. He looked around, up and down... He knew that he had definitely been there before. The place was a big warehouse with iron walls and industrial ceilings. Memories slowly began to trickle back….

The fake Stalag materialized before his eyes. He could see prisoners as they walked by, while his teammates played ball in the yard. There was even snow on the ground. Even though there was plenty of oxygen at the Stalag, Newkirk found himself gasping for air.

"Welcome back, Corporal."

Newkirk turned so fast that he almost lost his balance. The man in front of him sounded familiar but he did not have a face. Newkirk rubbed his eyes hard. "Blimey! What's going on 'ere? Who are you?"

The man smirked. "My friend, I'm anyone you want me to be."

Newkirk shut his eyes, before he quickly opened them again. He was relieved to see that the featureless man now had a face. "You can't fool me! I know you're not 'ere!"

"Newkirk, you're very sick. You need to lie down. Together, we can fix this." Frakes slowly came closer. "I'm your doctor, remember? We've been working on your nightmares and memories from the war."

"What?" Newkirk stumbled. He took out his pistol. "Don't move!"

"The war is over, it's long gone. You're free now; Mavis is coming to take you home." He kept walking toward Newkirk. "Come on, Peter. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"

Newkirk clenched his head in his hands. "Stop talking! You miserable bloody liar! I'll shoot!"

"Peter, no!" Lydia came running from the opposite side. "It's fine. You'll be all right. This is just another nightmare."

She began to walk forward and Newkirk turned the pistol in her direction. "You're crazy," he whispered. "Both of you."

"Peter, please. You don't want to do this."

"Don't I?" Newkirk felt that his hand with the gun was trembling. If he was not careful, he would pull the trigger involuntarily.

"We just want to help." Frakes dragged his attention away from Lydia and back to him.

"'Elp? I barely remember me own name! 'Ow is that 'elping?"

"We're on your side," Lydia insisted with a soft, though pleading voice.

"Rubbish! You want the secrets I 'ave!"

"Secrets?" Frakes kept on coming closer while maintaining his slow pace. "What secrets?"

"Stop that!" Newkirk turned to him one more time. "You're trying to confuse me! You just want to trick me into saying things-"

"What things?"

Newkirk aimed at Frakes. "No more questions! No more damn bloody questions!" Before he could even think of pulling the trigger though, Lydia grabbed his arm and injected him. Everything went in slow motion from there, though he found that he was quickly losing consciousness.

"Now, was that absolutely necessary, dear?"

"He was about to shoot, wasn't he?"

Frakes knelt over Newkirk, who was still struggling to stay awake. "Well, we'll never know now."

HHH

Hogan was so surprised that this guard was calling him Papa Bear that he didn't bother making sure that nobody was listening. "What are you talking about?"

König leaned forward to speak in whispers. "I know that you have a great operation here. Prisoners and spies use this place to fly away from Germany. I know that you and your men are involved in something big. Let's say that I know what you're looking for. Some common friend..."

"I don't think he's your friend too. But you got my attention. Step into my office."

"After you, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan understood. It wouldn't be appropriate for the prisoner to follow the guard.

Carter and LeBeau were at the table, feeding Klondike. They almost jumped when they saw Hogan coming into the barracks with a guard right behind him.

"Qu'est-ce qu'il ce passe? Qu'est-ce qu'il fait ici?" [1] LeBeau asked, too surprised to remember to speak in English.

"Yeah, and what's he doing here?" Carter quickly stood up, joining his already standing friend.

Hogan was quiet for a second before pulling off a lightning-fast move to disarm König. "Carter, the door. König? Take a seat, please." He kept the rifle aimed at the guard's chest. "Gentleman, consider yourself our prisoner."

"Quoi?" LeBeau was indignant. "A spy?"

"You realize that you can't leave this place after what you called me, don't you?" Hogan sat in front of him.

"I know." He did not mind. "So, it's true. Everything—the operations, the sabotage... the tunnels."

"Holy Molly!" Carter said. "How does he know so much?" Suddenly, a horrific thought came floating into his head. _But he wouldn't! He couldn't!_

"I know what you're thinking," König said. "It wasn't Newkirk. He didn't talk. In fact, I think he intentionally blocked that part of his memory. Every time we asked questions about this place, he developed a headache."

"Who are _we?_ And how did you know about us?" Hogan was growing angry.

"That was an educated guess. You're not that hard to find if one knows what to look for."

Hogan clenched his teeth. Certainly, they had lowered down their shields while they were working on Newkirk's problem. The mole in the Underground didn't help much in maintaining a low profile. "What did you mean you asked him questions about this place? Did you torture my man?"

"No!" König stared at them. "We didn't..."

"Yeah, right," Carter snapped, turning around from his post at the door to stare König in the eyes. "That's why he can't sleep or eat and he thinks he's somewhere else and we're strangers and the enemy-"

"Carter, watch the door please," Hogan said in a quiet tone. Carter sighed, but he resignedly did as he was ordered. "Now, Herr König, what did you do to him? And don't tell me lies!" He slammed the table with an open hand.

"I'm not lying! We didn't lay a hand on him! You see, there is this drug-"

Hogan stopped him. "A drug? New? Used in interrogation processes?"

König hesitated for a moment but then, he nodded. "It's still experimental. Doctor Frakes' intentions were to avoid physical pain and suffering-"

"Isn't that the drug we've been-?" LeBeau asked.

"Quiet, please," Hogan said. The last thing he needed at the moment was for König to know anything about their current mission. Hogan then signaled to LeBeau. "Go and tell Kinch to spread the word. I need to know everything about this-"

"John Frakes," König sighed resignedly.

Hogan sat closer. "Now tell me, what does this drug do?"

"It relaxes certain parts of the brain so that the mind is more receptive to different situations."

"What kind of situations?"

"Alternative realities. The subject is presented with different layers of reality. In the process, he's interrogated about anything we need to know. The subject will accept the realities as true and act accordingly to different patterns of behavior. We build up the scenario in the subject's mind and the drug elaborates an entire reality. The subject will see places and people the way we want him to see them. Once the subject is completely immersed in this universe, we interrogate him. The hypothesis was that the subject would surrender any kind of information willingly, since he would be surrounded by people that he was comfortable talking to."

"But Newkirk was not your average subject." Hogan almost smiled, knowing that his corporal was indeed a very tough man.

"No, he wasn't. He made us jump from one reality to the next, always looking for his Achilles heel." König shook his head. "Plus, he had these headaches all the time. I believe he provoked them himself involuntarily to keep his mind from revealing anything important."

"So why did you let him come back to Stalag thirteen?"

"That I don't know for sure. It was Doctor Frakes' idea. I suppose he believed that bringing him back would give him confidence to talk about the operations. Since we couldn't get him to divulge any information with us, he probably believed that being back home would make him more comfortable."

Hogan nodded once to himself, giving himself time to digest all of the information that König had shared with him. Suddenly, he stood up. "Why did you trick Newkirk into killing me?"

König stared at him with completely honest surprise. "I don't know. Frakes doesn't tell me everything that's in his mind. You'll have to ask him."

"And I will. Listen, König, you're up to your ears in trouble. Answer my next question and I might go easy on you," Hogan said. "Where is Frakes?"

"I will tell you everything you want to know with one condition. You've got to take me with you."

Hogan sighed while weighing his options. He could step forward and waste more time on arguments. Or, he could step back and play along with this man. After all, his main concern at the moment was finding Newkirk. "All right, let's go downstairs and put a plan together. König, you'll write down all the facts about that drug and we may think about continuing to possibly go easy on you."

HHH

Lydia watched Frakes who was tying up Newkirk to a chair. She looked at the clock on the wall and shook her head.

"Hurry up, he's about to wake up!"

"Take it easy, my dear. I have everything under control now."

"Did you predict that he would come back and try to kill you?" Lydia asked.

"Completely, along with the certainty that he would not be able to do it anyway." Frakes smiled proudly.

"But how did he find this place?"

"I dialed this number once after a session at the hospital. If all else failed, I wanted to make sure that he would catch the numbers by ear. He probably put them together, made a phone call to the local operator, and here he is." He talked as a matter-of-fact, but Lydia stared at him with a quizzical look. He laughed. "I didn't write my thesis on human behavior contemplating the pigeons in Hyde Park, you know?"

"All right. Let's say that he's predictable enough," Lydia sighed. "If his coming back here means that he's actually part of a bigger cell of saboteurs, why don't we call Major Hochstetter and get this charade done and over with?"

"Because I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of getting all the credit for this. He might have given us the hint of what was going on in Stalag thirteen, but the results are mine, Lydia. Corporal Newkirk has been navigating the sea of confusion on _my_ ship, all right? He's back here because I wanted him to be. I'll make a report for Hochstetter when I'm ready and only _if_ I wish to do so." Frakes stepped back. "Turn off the lights and close the door behind you. I have yet another mission for our friend to complete."

HHH

"Doctor Frakes, born in London, nineteen hundred. Graduated with honors from three different universities. Laureate and decorated several times for his research on human behavior. His last theory about drug-induced mind control caused certain expectations in the scientific fields. But it was dropped by the English medical boards soon after one of his patients committed suicide. He disappeared from the circuit. Intelligence suspects that he's been working in Germany since the beginning of the war."

Kinch finished his report and sat at the conference table with the others.

"A traitor and a mad doctor," LeBeau shook his head. "This is not good, colonel."

"You can't go there alone. It could be a trap." Carter watched Hogan changing into a German officer's uniform and makeup.

"There is a strong possibility that this might indeed be a trap. Though, at this point in the game, we have no other choice than to play by our opponent's rules." Hogan put on a mustache and applied powder to his hair. "Let's hope that he won't recognize me until is too late." He tucked his gun into his holster. He pushed a piece of paper and a pencil toward König. "The coordinates, please." Hogan waited while the man wrote down the numbers. "Kinch, contact the RAF and give them this address. Tell them to prepare a raid for twenty-three hundred hours. Priority request."

"But you and Newkirk-" LeBeau began to complain.

"We'll be back by then," Hogan said. _If we come back at all. _"Carter, prepare your specialty and send it to the nest. Don't forget the message for London, and be sure to include what König told us about the new drug. LeBeau, get Klondike ready to fly home the moment we come back." He adjusted his cap and looked at his men. "Gentlemen, we're all professionals here. Let's finish our mission without any more trouble. My time of return is twenty-two hundred fifty-five." There was a brief pause of approximately fifteen seconds. Hogan knew what he needed to say next, though he never enjoyed the few times that he had. "If I don't make it, you all know what to do."

HHH

Newkirk kept his eyes close. He shook his head in an attempt to dissipate the effects of the sedative. After several minutes, he realized that someone was talking to him through a speaker.

"_He's coming for you. It's imperative that you're ready to attack before he attacks you."_

"_... you'll take the pistol on the table and prepare to shoot."_

"_Repeat the instructions!"_

"Locate the enemy and neutralize him..." Newkirk dragged out the words, while he continued to fight his headache.

"_How will you do it?"_

"T-the pistol... on the table... I'll shoot 'im..."

"_Good... What will be the next step after that?"_

Newkirk frowned; the words were there but they didn't make any sense. He did not wish to perform the actions that the voice was asking of him.

"_The next step after you shoot the enemy!"_

Though he tried to keep from repeating the order, Newkirk didn't know that he was fighting a losing battle. "I-I'll shoot myself..."

Doctor Frakes watched Newkirk through another small window in the next room. He smirked. Everything was going smoothly. "Good, Corporal... very good." He turned off the microphone and left to prepare himself for Hogan's inevitable rescue attempt.

"Do you actually expect that he'll kill himself after the shooting?" Lydia had to walk faster to keep up with the doctor's pace.

"He's been required, been ordered, to shoot his superior officer. Tell me how would you feel?" Frakes laughed. "My dear Lydia, there is something about humans that is completely fascinating. They do what they're asked to do. The funny part is that they never think about the consequences of their actions until it's too late. Corporal Newkirk worships Colonel Hogan. If he feels he had anything to do with the killing of his friend in any way, he will not hesitate on taking his own life just for compensation. Now, leave the mousetrap open, the show is about to begin."

HHH

"I don't like this. There should have been two guards at the entrance" König said.

"It's just like the other night in the hospital. They just opened the doors for me and Carter," Hogan tried the doorknob and it turned. "See? I feel like a mouse trying to avoid a trap."

The place was empty and dark. Hogan held his pistol tight and ready. There was no sound or movement as they walked in.

"Frakes' office is that way."

Hogan aimed at König, waving him on with his pistol. "You lead the way."

They got to a hallway with several doors on each side. König pointed at the third on the left. "The next door leads to the laboratory."

"We'll try there first." Hogan shrugged. He could guess that they were being dragged into the lion's den but there was no time to plan another strategy. He would have to trust in his instinct and reaction capacity. The main goal was to find Newkirk and get out of there before the raid began.

König opened the laboratory's door. Newkirk was still on the chair, his eyes closed. Hogan came closer to check for any visible wounds, though as far as he could see, his corporal looked fine. Hogan shook his shoulder until Newkirk opened his eyes.

"Colonel Hogan," he whispered while making fists with his hands.

"It's all right, Newkirk. We're getting out of here." Hogan untied him and quickly looked around the room. "Can you walk?"

König made an attempt to help but Newkirk jerked away. "I'm fine," he said, getting up slowly.

"Sorry I don't have a gun for you," the colonel said.

"I'll take that one," he pointed at the table.

Hogan was too much in a hurry just then to see anything suspicious about an abandoned gun. "All right, just stay close." He made sure to keep his gun on König at all times, while the three men went back to the corridor.

They followed the same passageway to get out. _Things still look too easy_ Hogan thought to himself_._ When they arrived at the main entrance, Hogan was ready to run. He turned to give Newkirk a sign but he was nowhere in sight.

"Newkirk?" Hogan stopped and looked around. "König, where's Newkirk?"

König shook his head. "I knew it was too easy." He too looked around for any sudden movement in the shadows. "He was here a few minutes ago, how could he be so fast?"

"Oh, you don't know Newkirk, do you?" Hogan almost chuckled. Under other, more normal circumstances he would have bragged about his corporal's abilities. "And he's armed."

"But he won't shoot at you-"

One clean shot hit the nearest wall. Hogan dived behind some containers. He was shocked and angry. He looked at König hiding against the other side of the wall. "What kind of garbage have you been putting in his mind, anyway? I don't get it. Why do you turn him against me?"

"Because I can," Frakes laughed, coming downstairs with Lydia. "If only Major Hochstetter could see me now. I just brought the might Papa Bear down to his knees, all by myself, singlehandedly."

Hogan remembered that man from the day Newkirk came back to the Stalag. He tried to get up. Another shot whistled mere centimeters past his ear. "Stop it, Newkirk! Enough!" Hogan ducked again behind the containers. "You find this funny, don't you, Frakes?"

"Why, of course. This is like graduation time all over again. My theories have been confirmed and approved." He turned to König. "Poor Karl. You should've had more faith in me."

"I do," König yelled from his hiding place. "I knew you would go completely wrong with your experiments and that they would end in nothing but failure. And Lydia, I thought you were wiser!"

"Don't put the blame on me just to stick to the _winning_ side." Lydia stayed next to Frakes. "At least I stay faithful to my country in its finest hour, which is more than I can say for _you_!"

One shot on the floor made Lydia jump. Frakes turned to the upper level and smiled. "Easy, Newkirk, save your bullets. We won already."

The answer was another shot aimed squarely at his feet. The doctor grabbed Lydia and hid next to Hogan.

"What's going on? Didn't you contemplate this in your hypothesis?" Hogan almost grinned.

Lydia checked on the hole in Frakes' shoe. "He missed your foot by an inch. It's a good thing his aim is not so good."

"Oh, it is," Hogan said. "He's just playing with you. He will hit you the moment he feels it's time."

"But why?" Lydia turned to Frakes. "You programmed him. You're his master, aren't you?"

Frakes kept quiet, doing mental mathematics on probabilities, odds, combinations... He could not see what had gone wrong. "This is ridiculous." He stood up and aimed down towards Hogan. "Drop your weapon. Get up and start walking."

Hogan obeyed, not because he had surrendered, but because he needed to speed up the end of this adventure. Whatever the doctor had planned was backfiring at him now. Frakes had made a big mistake in underestimating Newkirk. Hogan knew that he would be able to profit from that. For the moment, he had an advantage: he knew his man. However, one warning shot on the floor made them stop in the middle of the passageway.

Newkirk appeared at the top of the stairs. He stared at Frakes and then at Hogan. His eyes were cold and hard, and his hand was ready to pull the trigger.

"You can stop there, _gov'nors_" he spat out with all the fury and anger he could muster.

"Newkirk, I told you he would come. He's here, you may have your revenge," Frakes smiled, pushing Hogan forward.

Newkirk aimed a steady hand at the colonel and grinned. Hogan could only inwardly gasp to himself. "Don't mind if I do."

[1] What's going on? What is he doing here?


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: All's Well That Ends Well

Hogan saw Newkirk aiming with a completely steady hand at him. His heart was beating fast, but fortunately his mind was working faster. He straightened up and chuckled, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was threatening to envelop the passageway.

"C'mon, Newkirk. You're taking this too far, don't you think? I'm Colonel Hogan, we're friends."

"The colonel is me friend, but you're not 'im. You took 'is place. You're a ruddy impostor!"

"I told you so, didn't I?" Frakes said. "You know you can trust me."

Newkirk moved his hand and gun to point at the other man instead. "You shut up! I'm sick and tired of your ruddy lies and stories. You sent this man to play with me mind. You made me believe that me father was a bloody 'ero of war! And that 'e was killed by the best person I've ever met in me entire life!" Newkirk leaned on the railing and grinned. "D'you really believe that I would betray all I fought for just because of that stupid story of yours? You're the enemy, Frakes; nothing could change that!" He aimed at the doctor. _Blimey, enemies as far as I can see! I'll kill them all if I 'ave to; they're not going to take me alive….But where are me mates? If the Gov'nor is dead, why aren't they coming for me?_ At the moment, Newkirk found that something incredible was happening: he found himself fighting hard to keep these men, these enemies from seeing him cry.

Hogan stepped between them. "No! You won't get dirty because of him. It's over now. We'll take him where he can be judge and punished. We'll send him back to London where they can deal with him accordingly."

Any sadness that Newkirk was feeling was quickly wiped from his mind at hearing the imposter speak. Anger could only fill his heart. "'E's a bloody traitor and you too! Death is the only punishment!"

"Punishment for the traitor!" Frakes shouted loudly. "But it's not me. You know who you are, Newkirk. You know it's not me! Haven't you asked yourself how I know about the operations? Someone talked about the sabotage and the men under the tunnels!" He pointed at Newkirk. "It was you, Newkirk! You told me about everything! You told Hochstetter and now all your friends are dead!"

Newkirk shook his head, in an attempt for both staying awake and trying to clear his head. His range of emotions, as well as the heat of the conversational battle, was beginning to take a heavy toll on him. However, that voice penetrated his mind and shut off any rational thought. He found himself paying attention to Frakes and following every word he said. "No, no... It's not true!...I don't care 'ow much you tortured me, I would rather die before I betray me mates!"

"It isn't true, Newkirk!" Hogan turned to Frakes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He was about to push Frakes away but the doctor was faster.

Frakes threw Hogan onto the floor with one fast, powerful motion and fired into the air. "Newkirk! The enemy is at hand. Hear me out! Look at him! See his face! This is not Colonel Hogan, this is the enemy, Newkirk! Your enemy! Can't you see? Don't you recognize him? Newkirk! Look! It's Major Hochstetter! He came and killed Hogan. He took his place. The drug makes you see and hear him as though he was Hogan, but he isn't here anymore! Look!"

König ran to the opposite side, where Lydia was hiding. "This is going too far, Lydia. We've got to stop him!" _We need to help Newkirk—Frakes has simply gone too far this time. Why did I listen to him? Why…_

However, his thoughts were abruptly cut off by Lydia's speaking. "Don't do anything stupid," she snarled.

"It's too late for that. But now, I have the chance to make amends with my conscience." He passed her by on his way upstairs.

Newkirk blinked and shut his eyes. He knew that when he opened them again, realities would change. He wanted to keep them closed forever, hoping beyond hope that when he opened them, he would be back in his bunk. _Why can't this week be nothing more than a bad dream? Why can't I wake up from it?_ He was not mistaken. The warehouse become the Gestapo HQ: gray walls, red floors, lots of closed doors and the constant noise of type writing machines. The place was exactly as he remembered it. Sometimes, he had been there as a prisoner, sometimes, he was a guard, others, he was the interrogator... _The sabotage and espionage business takes you places_. He looked down. Frakes was not there anymore. There was only one man standing there, dressed neatly in a Gestapo uniform. Newkirk glared at him and clenched his teeth. "Hochstetter," he said.

If Hogan had any reason to inwardly gasp before, nothing was compared to how his corporal was acting now. He tried to search for any recognition in his man's face, and he certainly found it. However, Newkirk wasn't looking at him with warmth, or even with anger at seeing the imposter. Instead, he was looking at him with the same veiled contempt that Hogan always saw Newkirk wearing whenever he saw the Major in their midst. Thinking fast, Hogan knew that he had to try to talk some, any amount of sane reason into his friend. "Now, Newkirk, get a grip. I'm Hogan. Remember? I just came to save you!"

Newkirk aimed at him. "This is for the colonel! I know who you are—you look and sound exactly like 'im! You're not fooling anybody; you've been working with Frakes to break us all for a _long_ time, 'aven't you? Well, it's not going to work!"

Hogan ducked and rolled almost at the same time that Newkirk opened fire. He could hear Frakes' sinister laughter. How could he stop Newkirk from shooting at that insufferable man? From shooting at the one man that he knew if his corporal might have the chance to kill, would not hesitate about it? Under normal circumstances, he knew that Newkirk would obey Hogan's command and keep from causing any trouble. But under these circumstances, his man was facing the one person responsible for his commanding officer's death. Suddenly, one idea came to mind, and he could only hope it would work.

He jumped to his feet and pulled Frakes in front of him. Using the doctor as a shield, he cautiously walked forward. "Whatever you did to him, you must undo it _now_." He pressed the muzzle of his pistol against Frakes' temple.

"Why would I want to do that? He's right where I want him to be." Frakes did not look concerned at all.

"You're a very sick man, Frakes. I don't think you could even qualify as a sadistic son of a bitch!" Hogan pushed him to move. "Finish with this, you Kraut!"

However, Frakes could only shake his head in a negative manner. "You don't know what you're asking for, Colonel. Deprogramming is a very delicate process. I wouldn't recommend it if you want to keep your man alive."

"What?" _If we can't "deprogram" Newkirk, how am I going to be able to bring him back to reason?_

"Enough talking you two!" Newkirk caught their attention and stopped their argument. But before he could aim his pistol again, König had managed to sneak behind him in order to tackle him from behind. They wrestled for the gun. Newkirk was faster as he pushed König downstairs. "Very funny, mates but I'm still not done with you." He signaled for Hogan, Frakes, König and Lyida to line up against the wall. "Now, gentlemen and lady, take a seat. We're going to stay 'ere for a while."

Hogan sighed. "How long is for a while? I have places to go."

"Shut up! You won't fool me! I know who you are. I don't care what else you've got to do. Especially if it involves killing or torturing more innocent people! Everybody stays 'ere!" Newkirk felt sweat forming on his forehead. He was becoming more and more exhausted. "Sit down and be quiet."

König turned to Hogan. "What about the raid?" he whispered.

"What raid?" Lydia asked.

Hogan shrugged. "It was a last-minute thing. Maybe they won't make it anyway." He looked at his watch. They still had one hour and a half. _Plenty of time—I hope_.

HHH

"_Psychotic_ is with a _p?_"

"And a _y_, and an _h,_" LeBeau said.

Kinch snorted. "What are you writing there, Carter?"

"The message for London," he shrugged. "I'm not giving much details, just the facts."

However, Kinch could only shake his head in a disapproving manner. "The colonel told us to keep it optimistic. For now, why don't you say 'mad scientist' instead?" Kinch nodded to himself as he saw his friend crossing out _psychotic_ and replacing it with the word _mad_ instead.

"Did you contact the submarine? When is the RAF coming?" LeBeau asked Kinch.

"It's our lucky day. There is a squadron on patrol tonight, and they'll be able to drop by on their way home." Kinch looked at his watch. "Exactly forty-five minutes earlier than we reckoned."

Carter stopped his writing to look at his friends. "Do you think the colonel and Newkirk will be back by then?"

"Colonel Hogan was very confident about finishing the mission as fast as he could. I don't see any problem," Kinch said. _Even if he has to drag Newkirk out by his feet._

"Bien sûr, once the colonel finds Newkirk, they'll manage any situation together."

However, the three men could only exchange slightly worried glances. Kinch could almost read what they were thinking. "You know the colonel doesn't like this kind of initiative."

"The colonel doesn't know that the RAF is coming earlier," Carter said.

"Newkirk was a little out of his mind, maybe the colonel could have problems in bringing him back," said LeBeau.

"Kinch, you can stay here and watch after the pigeon. After all, you're in communications." Carter got up and went for his coat.

"We'll be right back!" LeBeau smiled.

"Just be careful, guys…. You know how Hogan would feel if he lost you try while you're both trying to save Newkirk," Kinch said, speaking the last sentence barely above a whisper. He could see his friends silently nod to themselves. With that, they left the tunnels on their way to rescuing their friends.

HHH

Newkirk leaped around. The pain in his ankle was coming back, fast and hard, as the effects of the drug began to fade. He mumbled and shook his head as though he were talking to himself. Hogan could only hope that whatever he was saying this time involved the deeper part of his mind trying to talk some sanity back into him. He kept one eye on him and another on his watch. Time was growing shorter.

"Newkirk? Aren't you tired? Why don't you sit down?" Hogan said, using as soothing and comforting a voice as he could.

"Stop asking me ruddy questions!" Newkirk shouted. Then, he took a deep breath. "Can't think with people talking to me."

"What do you have to think about?" Hogan asked, hoping that he could still reach out and help his man.

"Where I am, when I am, where me mates are... Who you are," he brushed his hair with one hand. "So many questions... and the bloody answers..."

"I've got the answers you need-" Doctor Frakes grinned, this time with genuine sincerity and friendship showing. "Please, allow me to help you."

"You've done enough already, don't you think?" Hogan turned to him.

"Keep your bloody mouths shut, all of you!" Newkirk leaped to the other side of the room.

"This wasn't part of the original plan," König said, shaking his head sadly.

"Oh, shut up, Karl," Lydia hissed.

"Oh, it's all right, Lydia. I can brag about my work myself." Frakes straightened up. "The drug worked perfectly well. I was able to manipulate Newkirk's realities any way I wanted."

"But you couldn't make him talk" Hogan grinned. "And here we are, held as hostages. Tell me, did you predict this too?"

Frakes shrugged. "I must admit that it didn't go smoothly all the way. In my finale, I had planned for him to kill you and then, he would kill himself."

Hogan couldn't help but shuddering at that thought. In Hogan's finale, he would finish this mad scientist with his own hands. "Why kill us both? You have all the information you could possibly want about our operations. Why don't you call Hochstetter once and for all?"

"Because, Colonel Hogan, I'm still a member of the British Empire." Frakes smiled at Hogan's frown. "I came to this country because they provided me with everything I needed to develop my experiments. They didn't question my methods and they placed no limits on what I chould do. I needed to put my drug to the test, and they gave me an entire prison camp to work with. I was granted with lots of time and space to work. No questions asked." He took Lydia's hand, who by now was looking at Frakes with a visible air of disgust. "Don't be so surprised. You knew I would never give my project to these lunatics. Who knows what abominations they would have done with it? I still have a name to protect, you understand."

"A psychopath with principles, I should've known," Hogan said to König.

"Are we on the same side now?" König frowned.

Hogan shook his head. He was losing count of who was working for whom and where. He looked at his watch and found himself hoping for another half an hour of delay. Newkirk had stopped his pacing and was now sitting several feet away. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be doing any better. Hogan knew that he had to do something and fast. He got up and walked slowly towards Newkirk.

However, before Hogan had managed to walk more than ten paces Newkirk quickly sprung up. He cocked his pistol. "Don't get any closer, Major Hochstetter."

Hogan stopped. "Newkirk, it's me, Colonel Hogan," he said in a half-comforting, half-pleading voice.

"Don't give me that rubbish. I ain't blind or deaf, you know?" He glared with contempt and fury showing in his eyes. "I can see it's you."

"No, you can't. That's why I'm here. You need help, Newkirk. There must be some way you see me for who I really am. Please, you have to believe me when I say I'm not Major Hochstetter. We've been through tough times together, and we've always been there for each other. Let me continue to help you." Hogan stepped forward, reaching a hand out to his man.

Newkirk stepped backward. "Don't come any closer. I'll shoot!"

"Newkirk, listen. We're on the same side." Hogan slowed down. "We've been working together for years now. We're friends."

"Don't you _dare_ say that! I'd _never_ be friends with a rat like you!"

The sound of approaching planes distracted Hogan. He ran to the door and Newkirk followed closely behind him. "For once, they're early," Hogan said while sighing.

Newkirk knew that sound by heart. He looked at the ceiling and almost smiled. Hogan did not miss that and began to quickly formulate another plan. Putting it into action, he began to ask of his corporal, "Do you know who they are?"

Newkirk shut his eyes. "No, no... you won't make me talk about them."

"You don't have to. I know they're your friends. They're mine too." Hogan kept an eye on the pistol, just in case Newkirk decided to open fire. "I've talked to them. They always asked about their mate Peter. They tell me how proud they are of you. Newkirk, do you remember what it's like to be up there? You used to love that, didn't you?"

Newkirk hesitated. He almost lowered his pistol before quickly raising it again. "You'd better stop talking" he snarled. _Blimey, the Major knows me well—almost _too _well….Is it possible? Should I dare to 'ope?_

"Newkirk, you loved flying so much and yet, you gave all that up for another kind of job, another way to help. You found new friends. You remember your friends, don't you? The ones you call your 'mates?' You would die for them, and they would die for you. That's what friends are for. We watch each other's backs."

"_True friends stab you in the front_," Newkirk whispered. He stared at Hogan and for a split second, he could see the colonel. "Gov'nor?" The image changed again and he shut his eyes.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Hogan asked, genuine concern showing in both his voice and his face.

"Sir, is that you? All I can see is Hochstetter." _Blimey, if it really _is _the Colonel…_ Not sure of what to do at the moment, Newkirk could only lower his pistol completely this time.

Hogan glared at Frakes, who was looking so proud of himself at the other side of the room. Turning back to face his friend, Hogan gently gripped him by the shoulder, just as had done many times before. "It's just a mirage Peter. I'm here, I'm real."

Newkirk opened one eye and closed it again. "Mirage? Bloody nightmare I'd say."

"It doesn't matter, as long as we work together." Hogan stretched his hand. "May I have the pistol please?" Hogan watched as Newkirk rapidly looked between the gun in his hand, and the man in front of him. "You can give it to me. You can do it, Newkirk. I know it's a leap of faith at the moment, but you've got to believe me. Do you trust me?" Hogan held his breath while Newkirk stared at the weapon. Finally, the Englishman gave in.

"Just do me a favor, sir. Don't smile when you look at me. I just 'ate that bloke's ruddy smile."

Hogan laughed. "Sorry about that." Suddenly, they could hear the first bomb falling a few feet away from the building, which began to shake. Hogan turned to the two men and the woman. "We must get out of here now! König, we need the documentation on the drug."

Frakes stood up. "You'll never have it! It's mine; I'm the only one who will ever use it!" He quickly ran upstairs.

"He's going to his office!" König was about to go after him but Lydia grabbed him by the coat.

"You traitor!" she hissed. "We started this together, and we're going to finish it together!"

The plane dropped a second bomb. The building shook and several containers fell from the second level.

"Everybody down!" Hogan ordered, covering his head with his arms. Hogan had expected his man to take cover with him, not to forget about his sore ankle and follow Frakes upstairs. The colonel got up. "Newkirk, come back here!" He sighed and ran after him.

Frakes was at his desk, gathering together all the papers and folders that contained information about the drug. Newkirk appeared at the door with the pistol in his hand. "It's over now Frakes, just give up."

"Give up? This is the work of a lifetime. I won't surrender. Not to you or anybody else!"

"I can't let you go. You're our prisoner now."

The doctor stepped forward and Newkirk squarely aimed his pistol at him. "Would you kill me?" Frakes straightened up and grinned. "I've worked with you long enough to know that you are incapable of shooting in cold blood, my friend."

"Oh, don't tempt me," Newkirk replied in a slightly angry manner.

"So brave all of a sudden." Frakes narrowed his eyes. "Look at you, my boy. You're all alone now. Your friends are gone, they're all dead... You finally see your imposter of a commanding officer as he truly is, only to believe Hochstetter's lies…" His voice was almost a whisper. "They trusted you and you betrayed them. You're the only traitor here. I just listened to what you had to say... operations, names, places... You talked to me... and now your friends are gone..."

Newkirk shook his head. "You're lying, you're wrong... I'd never talk!"

"That's what you want to believe. You're thinking that it would be so much easier that way. But in the end we all know what we did, don't we?" Frakes came closer. "Tell me, Corporal, how can you live with what you did? Do you sleep at night?"

Newkirk stepped backwards. "Don't come closer," he said, raising his pistol.

"Don't you hear the voices of your friends asking why? You know they bother you in your sleep; they come to you in your dreams. They keep on asking 'Why, Newkirk?' Why did you do this to them? How could you? They were your friends!"

"Stay back! I'm warning you!"

"You're worthless and you know it. Do you really think that poor Stepney scum such as yourself could maintain the trust of his so-called friends? You've always watched out for only you, you told me that yourself. You'd be better off dead. They don't need you anymore. They're looking down on you, and they will continue to look down on you until you finish what you set out to do. You can't use that pistol on me... but you can use it on yourself..."

Another bomb rattled the place and walls began to fall. There was dust everywhere and it was increasingly becoming harder to see. Hogan was at the hallway, struggling to stay on his feet. He leaned against the walls, trying to guess which way Newkirk had gone when a blast caught his attention. He ran to an open door.

Frakes was on the floor, holding a bleeding arm against his chest. He looked as though he was in complete shock as he stared at Newkirk in front of him. The corporal dropped the pistol.

"Are you all right?" Hogan asked him.

"He shot me!" Frakes shook his head. "He actually shot me."

"I wasn't talking to you" Hogan mumbled, glaring at him. "And you're lucky he didn't aim to kill," Hogan said. "Come on, Newkirk, let's go."

"T-the papers," Newkirk pointed at the floor. Hogan picked them up and glanced at Frakes.

"Are you coming? I suppose I have to take a prisoner here."

"That's not in my plans!" Frakes dived to get the pistol. Fortunately, Hogan was faster and kicked it away. He pulled up the doctor roughly by his shirt collar.

Hogan sent Newkirk ahead of him first while he dragged Frakes downstairs. They were right at the entrance when Lydia intercepted them, pistol in hand. "You're not leaving this place! I called the patrols, they're on their way."

"Don't mind us if we don't stay to wait for them." Hogan had to yell over all the noise. "This place is falling apart. At least, we could stay outside."

"Let the doctor go!" Lydia raised the pistol. "I'll shoot you, Colonel Hogan."

"Over me dead body!" Newkirk shouted back. "You're not going to 'arm one 'air on 'is 'ead!"

Another blast dropped more plaster and dust. "The roof is about to fall!" Hogan protested. "I don't have time for this!" He was about to seize the gun from Lydia's hand when someone shot from behind.

Everybody turned around to see who the shooter was. König quickly ran towards them. Before Hogan could say anything a final bomb fell on them. The last walls standing came crashing down and everything went pitch-black and dead quiet…. Time seemed to be at almost a stand-still…

It took Hogan several minutes to understand that he was alive. Fortunately and amazingly, he hadn't lost consciousness during the explosion. As soon as he had managed to regain his mobility, he began to dig in the debris for survivors. He made a mental plan of where everybody had been standing at the moment of the explosion. Newkirk had been on his right. Hogan lifted and threw several rocks and plaster away, as quickly as humanly possible, until he saw one hand moving in a wild, thrashing manner. He still had to dig out more room around his man before he was capable of freeing Newkirk altogether.

Initially, he made sure that the Englishman was breathing. He then reached over to feel Newkirk's pulse and was relieved to see that it was normal. He gently slapped his man on the shoulders. "Hey, Newkirk, open your eyes." He felt comforted to see that he was slowly coming to life. "Are you okay?"

"I think so, sir," Newkirk managed to get out in a semi-weak fashion. "But I'll probably need Wilson to look me over when we get back to camp." He frowned while regaining control of his body. He winced when he sat up and moved his broken ankle. He looked at Hogan and smirked in disgust. Here was a man who was showing so much compassion and warmth towards him, appearing in the form of somebody who truly hated him. For a brief moment, Newkirk thought about trying to run away from the man who lay before him. Shaking that thought out of his head, he instead placed his arm warmly, yet tentatively around his friend. He smiled, before smirking with distasteful disgust again.

"Oh, please. Still?"

"I think the mustache is fading," Newkirk said sarcastically.

"Don't patronize me." Hogan stood up and stared at the laboratory in ruins. "That was a master's job."

"Do you think they survived?" Newkirk asked, though he honestly couldn't care less about what had happened to Frakes and Lydia. Though, it was König's ability to see the light, though possibly at the last minute, that caused the corporal to slightly worry about him.

"I saw König shooting at Lydia right before the blast," Hogan shrugged. "Frakes was running back inside... Who knows? They knew too much, I'd rather think that they're gone." _Though, if König miraculously showed up at the Stalag and asked for safe passage to England, I don't think I have it in me to turn him away._

"It was all me fault… All me bloody fault!" Newkirk repeated, still trying to keep his colonel from seeing the ever-so-slight mist that had formed in his eyes.

Hogan turned around. Newkirk eyes glowed with the flames in the compound, and the shine of the mist was unmistakable. He appeared completely lost in thoughts. Hogan pulled him up. He turned his corporal to face him, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's the drug, do you hear me? You didn't talk; you didn't break under their pressure. None of your friends are dead. In fact," Hogan said, allowing a small smile to break out on his face, "they're all waiting for you back at camp. James, Louis, Andrew. _All _of them." Hogan allowed that to sink into his man's mind before he continued. "Frakes had a couple of wild guesses and put two and two together. He just made you believe what he wanted you to in order to see your reaction. Do you hear me?"

Newkirk nodded, though it was in rather an unconvincing mode. He didn't say anything for the rest of the night; he would keep quiet for hours after LeBeau and Carter appeared in Klink's staff car.

HHH

"Klondike made his way back safe and sound. London is very grateful, especially to Carter" Kinch read from his notebook. "They are also satisfied with your report, although they would have liked to get the paperwork too."

"Unfortunately, there's no paperwork when the house falls on you all of a sudden. I only thought about taking cover." Hogan took a sip of wine. "The files burned down right next to me."

"At least, you and Newkirk made it back in one piece." LeBeau sat at the table. "But there's something that I don't understand. If Frakes knew about our operation, why hasn't Hochstetter come yet?"

"He never knew about the outcome of the experiment. Frakes didn't have any intention of inviting him to his party," Hogan said, matter-of-factly.

"But he wasn't a patriot... not a traitor either... It's very confusing," Carter shook his head.

"Mad doctors always are," Kinch shrugged. "He just wanted to prove his theories."

"Just imagine, he knew everything about us and the Underground but he didn't care about that. He could've made a fortune." LeBeau chuckled.

"In that case, any of us could make a fortune. We all know what we do here. Why, we could probably get enough money to bribe both Klink and Schultz to let us walk out the front gate…."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you, Carter," Hogan grinned.

Suddenly, the trapdoor opened and Newkirk came up with Wilson. He went quietly to sit on Carter's lower bunk while everybody turned to face him.

"Feeling any better?" Carter asked him, hoping for a spot of good news after the hectic week that they all had just experienced.

"Wilson?" Hogan turned to face the medic, who was still standing by the bunk with the secret passageway, before Newkirk could answer.

"The heel is mending fine," Wilson said. "But we'll have to keep an eye on him until the drug wears off completely. Also, thankfully it doesn't seem to have any addictive qualities to it."

"That's good to hear," Hogan said, smiling warmly to himself before taking another sip from his cup. "The last thing we need is for Newkirk to want to take the drug again, only to have him end up in Oz." Looking around the table, Hogan could see three of his men nodding vigorously to their colonel's sentence.

Getting up from his seat at the table, LeBeau walked to sit down next to Newkirk. "All right, mon ami, how many Hochstetters do you see and hear today?" he asked with genuine concern and worry.

Newkirk stared at him in disbelief. At first, he was about to say, "Don't make jokes, it ain't bloody funny!" However, he could see that for once, there was very little mischief showing in his friend's eyes. Newkirk couldn't help but smile warmly while looking at his friends. _Me mates truly care about me. Once the drug completely wears off, I know I'll be all right, as long as I 'ave them for support._ "It's not that I see or 'ear the bastard everywhere, it's just him." He pointed at Hogan. "Sorry, gov'nor, nothing personal." _I know it's Colonel Hogan, but it feels so bloody weird seeing our worst enemy gathered at our table. It just isn't natural._

"The drug is wearing off but very slowly. It will take at least several days for the effects to vanish completely. At least, now he's aware that most of what he sees or feels is just an illusion." Wilson smiled at him. "Right, Newkirk?"

The Englishman took a deep breath. "Right," he said. "Hochstetter isn't 'ere; it's just me ruddy mind playing tricks on me."

"As long as you remember that; you have to continue to believe us, okay? You're not a traitor," Kinch said.

"And nobody is dead."

"Thank you, Carter. That really does make me feel much better." Newkirk rubbed the back of his neck.

"We'll be here to help you get over the effects of that nasty Bosch drug, mon ami. We're not going anywhere….Plus, you're not going anywhere either."

"LeBeau is right, Newkirk. We talked about it while you were with Wilson. Until you're completely over the effects of the drug, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you off the team until further notice. Do you think you'll be ok with that?"

"I'll be fine,…though me magic fingers might get bored after a couple of days," Newkirk replied.

_This is the first time Newkirk's employed his usual sarcastic wit in a while. We're definitely going to be all right_ Hogan could only think warmly to himself.

Suddenly, Newkirk couldn't help but be unable to stifle a yawn. Hogan could see the exhaustion on Newkirk's eyes. Wilson had talked to him about this, so he knew Newkirk was suffering the effects of the drug.

"Why don't you get some sleep? It's been a very hectic week for you," Hogan suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea. I could certainly use it," Newkirk replied, before lying down on Carter's bunk.

After five minutes, Hogan could hear soft breathing coming from his corporal. Still, Hogan couldn't help but sigh to himself. Wilson had talked about the fact that his mind might still play tricks on him from time-to-time until the drug was completely out of his system. "It's important that he be place on suicide watch, unfortunately. His mind might still try to convince him that he killed his friends."

"But he knows he doesn't, right?" Hogan hopefully asked.

"Fortunately, that is correct. Plus, I told him any time he feels that way, he can come talk to me. Talking to an acquaintance instead of a friend might help him to be more open with his feelings regarding what he's gone through."

The remainder of the day passed by quickly, much to everybody's relief. Wilson had warned them that the first day would be the hardest on Newkirk, since the drug, and its effects, was still in his system. Any time Newkirk acted strange or differently around Hogan during that first day, his mates would constantly remind him that it was indeed his commanding officer, and not the Gestapo Major. Eventually, by the next morning, Newkirk was able to look at Hogan the way that he always had in the past.

In the meantime, life went on. Two nights later, Kinch received a message about another mission that they had to perform. While Carter's note went into heavy detail about the drug, they had decided that it would be in Newkirk's best interest if his name wasn't mentioned. Instead, the sergeant had always written "the subject" when referring to his friend. "Well, another night, another bridge that we need to blow out." He stood up and handed the sheet of paper to Hogan.

"C'mon, gentlemen. Those detonators won't set themselves."

"Wow! Wouldn't it be great if they could do that? We wouldn't have to go out at midnight and-"

"Carter, we get the picture." Hogan put one hand on the young sergeant and pushed him gently toward the trapdoor. He turned to Newkirk. "You stay here tonight, Corporal. Sleep it over, and we'll see how you're feeling tomorrow. Wilson, you'll get the first watch. I want Kinch to replace you in two hours, and make sure Baker guards the radio during Kinch's watch." Hogan had made sure not to let anybody outside of his core group know about Newkirk's psychological problems, only that he was recovering from a broken ankle that he had suffered during the explosion.

"Yes, sir." The medic turned off the lights and lit a small candle. He sat at the table in order to read an old issue of the London Times. "You heard the boss. Go to sleep, Corporal."

Newkirk did not think about it twice. He jumped up to his top bunk and lied down. For the first time in a week, he would not be afraid of waking up in any other place. For the first couple of nights back at the Stalag, Newkirk would sometimes awaken in a cold sweat in fear of being someplace else. As per Wilson's orders, he always talked about his nightmares with either him or Hogan.

"But you know it's a dream, don't you?" they always asked.

Newkirk could only nod his head, and he would allow a small smile to appear on his face. "Yes, I know."

However, he had found that he had been tired enough to take a small nap that day. For the first time, he didn't dream about waking up anyplace other than being in his Stalag. Instead, he found that he woke up with a smile as he dreamt about his life with Mavis before the war. _This time, I'm back for good. Me mind may still play tricks on me for another couple of days, but I'm right where I belong, with the people who've come to mean the most to me. And nothing in this world is going to change that._

AN: This story was inspired by the following "Star Trek: The Next Generation" episodes: "Frame of Mind" and "Future Imperfect." As some of you may have noticed, the character of John Frakes has the same name as the actor Jonathan Frakes, who played Commander William T. Riker in this series. If you've enjoyed this story, I recommend checking out both episodes!


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